#centurymediarecords — Public Fediverse posts

Texan five-banger Frozen Soul crept into my promo pile back in 2021 with their glacially imposing Crypt of Ice. Unfortunately, I missed covering the improved follow-up Glacial Domination properly, relegating it to a Filter blurb instead. But that’s no excuse for Century Media to withhold No Place of Warmth from me when it was time. No matter, because Frozen Soul deserve a full-bodied tongue bath from this hot-blooded sponge, and I intend to give it with great relish.

The Frozen Soul formula carries over into No Place of Warmth, but evolves incrementally just as Glacial Domination did three years prior. As these homo glaciali continue their ascent into a full upright stance, their Bolt Thrower-meets-Sanguisugabogg-meets-Rotpit riff orgy enters a new realm of ferocity, carrying a murderous momentum and relentless grooves across a dick-skin-tight 35 minutes. Vocalist Chad Green puts down a vicious performance of caveman roars, rancid rasps, and infectious barks. Matt Dennard pounds the mammoth skins with a single-minded bludgeoning that oozes blood, pus, and attitude. Bassist Samantha Mobley, always rumbling beneath these well-tread tundras, anchors the affair in muscular heft and scalpel precision (though the unforgiving compression in the mix makes her great work difficult to make out in many listening environments). Most importantly, however, are guitarists Chris Bonner’s and Michael Munday’s unflappable riffs and infectious hooks. Familiar perhaps to a fault but nonetheless brutally effective, Frozen Soul’s guitar work crests a summit on No Place of Warmth, generating heaps of energy with minimal tooling and using it to slam skulls into each other with devastating impact.

What more could you ask for in a stripped-down, meat-and-potatoes death metal record? A better mix, sure, but not much else. “Invoke War (ft. Machine Head)” brings Bolt Thrower aggression, anvils, and icepicks to my cranium with cold prejudice, leaving me a drooling mess whose only joy in life demands MOAR RIFFS. Thankfully, the slamtastic “Absolute Zero,” “Dreadnought (ft. Sanguisugabogg),” and “Skinned by the Wind,” along with mid-paced stompers “Chaos Will Reign,” “DEATHWEAVER,” and “Frost Forged” shoot overdoses of riff-laced adrenaline directly into my veins, reducing me to animalistic mindlessness. As that progresses, the urge to zoom becomes a new inconvenience in daily life, but Frozen Soul prepared for that. Rippers “No Place of Warmth (ft. Gerard Way),” “Eyes of Despair,” “Ethereal Dreams,” and “Killin Time (Until It’s Time to Kill)” roar and rage through flesh and bone with sleazy grooves that fit right at home at any local bar brawl, giving my overflowing energy reserves an outlet through fist and boot.

You might notice a rare occurrence in the preceding paragraph: I highlighted every song on No Place of Warmth to extol their virtues. This was no accident, as every track has something memorable and engaging to take away, but No Place of Warmth isn’t perfect. As mentioned earlier, No Place of Warmth is crushed pretty heavily. Consequently, Samantha’s bass struggles for audibility—despite offering ample textural heft—behind chunky guitars and ferocious roars. With a little less compression and a few tweaks to instrumental positioning, her input would be heard more fully and thereby make even greater impact. Additionally, Matt Dennard’s bass kick feels a bit plastic, creating a bit of tactile unpleasantness during initial spins. In other areas, the album’s various guest spots don’t stand out as distinctly as a guest spot should. It took a few spins to nail down Machine Head’s contributions to “Invoke War,” especially, and Gerard Way’s unexpected blackened rasps deserve greater presence, too. I still can’t confidently pick out Sanguisugabogg in “Dreadnought,” though it is a killer tune. As a criticism, this mostly points to a thoughtfulness in features that Frozen Soul neglected, but that they might easily rectify with more intentional writing that gives those features more significance and definition going forward.

All told, No Place of Warmth is more than just rock-solid Bolt Thrower worship. It is a consistently entertaining record tailor-made to ensure gains in the gym, incite massive mosh pits in any given venue, and cause spinal trauma to any receptive passers-by. It’s nothing new, and nothing groundbreaking, but its tectonic grooves and boundless vitality crack the crust regardless. Should you be in need of more quality death metal this year—and we all know you can never have too much—No Place of Warmth is a worthy part of a balanced breakfast rotation.

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: PCM
Label: Century Media Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Official | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

Texan five-banger Frozen Soul crept into my promo pile back in 2021 with their glacially imposing Crypt of Ice. Unfortunately, I missed covering the improved follow-up Glacial Domination properly, relegating it to a Filter blurb instead. But that’s no excuse for Century Media to withhold No Place of Warmth from me when it was time. No matter, because Frozen Soul deserve a full-bodied tongue bath from this hot-blooded sponge, and I intend to give it with great relish.

The Frozen Soul formula carries over into No Place of Warmth, but evolves incrementally just as Glacial Domination did three years prior. As these homo glaciali continue their ascent into a full upright stance, their Bolt Thrower-meets-Sanguisugabogg-meets-Rotpit riff orgy enters a new realm of ferocity, carrying a murderous momentum and relentless grooves across a dick-skin-tight 35 minutes. Vocalist Chad Green puts down a vicious performance of caveman roars, rancid rasps, and infectious barks. Matt Dennard pounds the mammoth skins with a single-minded bludgeoning that oozes blood, pus, and attitude. Bassist Samantha Mobley, always rumbling beneath these well-tread tundras, anchors the affair in muscular heft and scalpel precision (though the unforgiving compression in the mix makes her great work difficult to make out in many listening environments). Most importantly, however, are guitarists Chris Bonner’s and Michael Munday’s unflappable riffs and infectious hooks. Familiar perhaps to a fault but nonetheless brutally effective, Frozen Soul’s guitar work crests a summit on No Place of Warmth, generating heaps of energy with minimal tooling and using it to slam skulls into each other with devastating impact.

What more could you ask for in a stripped-down, meat-and-potatoes death metal record? A better mix, sure, but not much else. “Invoke War (ft. Machine Head)” brings Bolt Thrower aggression, anvils, and icepicks to my cranium with cold prejudice, leaving me a drooling mess whose only joy in life demands MOAR RIFFS. Thankfully, the slamtastic “Absolute Zero,” “Dreadnought (ft. Sanguisugabogg),” and “Skinned by the Wind,” along with mid-paced stompers “Chaos Will Reign,” “DEATHWEAVER,” and “Frost Forged” shoot overdoses of riff-laced adrenaline directly into my veins, reducing me to animalistic mindlessness. As that progresses, the urge to zoom becomes a new inconvenience in daily life, but Frozen Soul prepared for that. Rippers “No Place of Warmth (ft. Gerard Way),” “Eyes of Despair,” “Ethereal Dreams,” and “Killin Time (Until It’s Time to Kill)” roar and rage through flesh and bone with sleazy grooves that fit right at home at any local bar brawl, giving my overflowing energy reserves an outlet through fist and boot.

You might notice a rare occurrence in the preceding paragraph: I highlighted every song on No Place of Warmth to extol their virtues. This was no accident, as every track has something memorable and engaging to take away, but No Place of Warmth isn’t perfect. As mentioned earlier, No Place of Warmth is crushed pretty heavily. Consequently, Samantha’s bass struggles for audibility—despite offering ample textural heft—behind chunky guitars and ferocious roars. With a little less compression and a few tweaks to instrumental positioning, her input would be heard more fully and thereby make even greater impact. Additionally, Matt Dennard’s bass kick feels a bit plastic, creating a bit of tactile unpleasantness during initial spins. In other areas, the album’s various guest spots don’t stand out as distinctly as a guest spot should. It took a few spins to nail down Machine Head’s contributions to “Invoke War,” especially, and Gerard Way’s unexpected blackened rasps deserve greater presence, too. I still can’t confidently pick out Sanguisugabogg in “Dreadnought,” though it is a killer tune. As a criticism, this mostly points to a thoughtfulness in features that Frozen Soul neglected, but that they might easily rectify with more intentional writing that gives those features more significance and definition going forward.

All told, No Place of Warmth is more than just rock-solid Bolt Thrower worship. It is a consistently entertaining record tailor-made to ensure gains in the gym, incite massive mosh pits in any given venue, and cause spinal trauma to any receptive passers-by. It’s nothing new, and nothing groundbreaking, but its tectonic grooves and boundless vitality crack the crust regardless. Should you be in need of more quality death metal this year—and we all know you can never have too much—No Place of Warmth is a worthy part of a balanced breakfast rotation.

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: PCM
Label: Century Media Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Official | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

Texan five-banger Frozen Soul crept into my promo pile back in 2021 with their glacially imposing Crypt of Ice. Unfortunately, I missed covering the improved follow-up Glacial Domination properly, relegating it to a Filter blurb instead. But that’s no excuse for Century Media to withhold No Place of Warmth from me when it was time. No matter, because Frozen Soul deserve a full-bodied tongue bath from this hot-blooded sponge, and I intend to give it with great relish.

The Frozen Soul formula carries over into No Place of Warmth, but evolves incrementally just as Glacial Domination did three years prior. As these homo glaciali continue their ascent into a full upright stance, their Bolt Thrower-meets-Sanguisugabogg-meets-Rotpit riff orgy enters a new realm of ferocity, carrying a murderous momentum and relentless grooves across a dick-skin-tight 35 minutes. Vocalist Chad Green puts down a vicious performance of caveman roars, rancid rasps, and infectious barks. Matt Dennard pounds the mammoth skins with a single-minded bludgeoning that oozes blood, pus, and attitude. Bassist Samantha Mobley, always rumbling beneath these well-tread tundras, anchors the affair in muscular heft and scalpel precision (though the unforgiving compression in the mix makes her great work difficult to make out in many listening environments). Most importantly, however, are guitarists Chris Bonner’s and Michael Munday’s unflappable riffs and infectious hooks. Familiar perhaps to a fault but nonetheless brutally effective, Frozen Soul’s guitar work crests a summit on No Place of Warmth, generating heaps of energy with minimal tooling and using it to slam skulls into each other with devastating impact.

What more could you ask for in a stripped-down, meat-and-potatoes death metal record? A better mix, sure, but not much else. “Invoke War (ft. Machine Head)” brings Bolt Thrower aggression, anvils, and icepicks to my cranium with cold prejudice, leaving me a drooling mess whose only joy in life demands MOAR RIFFS. Thankfully, the slamtastic “Absolute Zero,” “Dreadnought (ft. Sanguisugabogg),” and “Skinned by the Wind,” along with mid-paced stompers “Chaos Will Reign,” “DEATHWEAVER,” and “Frost Forged” shoot overdoses of riff-laced adrenaline directly into my veins, reducing me to animalistic mindlessness. As that progresses, the urge to zoom becomes a new inconvenience in daily life, but Frozen Soul prepared for that. Rippers “No Place of Warmth (ft. Gerard Way),” “Eyes of Despair,” “Ethereal Dreams,” and “Killin Time (Until It’s Time to Kill)” roar and rage through flesh and bone with sleazy grooves that fit right at home at any local bar brawl, giving my overflowing energy reserves an outlet through fist and boot.

You might notice a rare occurrence in the preceding paragraph: I highlighted every song on No Place of Warmth to extol their virtues. This was no accident, as every track has something memorable and engaging to take away, but No Place of Warmth isn’t perfect. As mentioned earlier, No Place of Warmth is crushed pretty heavily. Consequently, Samantha’s bass struggles for audibility—despite offering ample textural heft—behind chunky guitars and ferocious roars. With a little less compression and a few tweaks to instrumental positioning, her input would be heard more fully and thereby make even greater impact. Additionally, Matt Dennard’s bass kick feels a bit plastic, creating a bit of tactile unpleasantness during initial spins. In other areas, the album’s various guest spots don’t stand out as distinctly as a guest spot should. It took a few spins to nail down Machine Head’s contributions to “Invoke War,” especially, and Gerard Way’s unexpected blackened rasps deserve greater presence, too. I still can’t confidently pick out Sanguisugabogg in “Dreadnought,” though it is a killer tune. As a criticism, this mostly points to a thoughtfulness in features that Frozen Soul neglected, but that they might easily rectify with more intentional writing that gives those features more significance and definition going forward.

All told, No Place of Warmth is more than just rock-solid Bolt Thrower worship. It is a consistently entertaining record tailor-made to ensure gains in the gym, incite massive mosh pits in any given venue, and cause spinal trauma to any receptive passers-by. It’s nothing new, and nothing groundbreaking, but its tectonic grooves and boundless vitality crack the crust regardless. Should you be in need of more quality death metal this year—and we all know you can never have too much—No Place of Warmth is a worthy part of a balanced breakfast rotation.

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: PCM
Label: Century Media Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Official | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

Texan five-banger Frozen Soul crept into my promo pile back in 2021 with their glacially imposing Crypt of Ice. Unfortunately, I missed covering the improved follow-up Glacial Domination properly, relegating it to a Filter blurb instead. But that’s no excuse for Century Media to withhold No Place of Warmth from me when it was time. No matter, because Frozen Soul deserve a full-bodied tongue bath from this hot-blooded sponge, and I intend to give it with great relish.

The Frozen Soul formula carries over into No Place of Warmth, but evolves incrementally just as Glacial Domination did three years prior. As these homo glaciali continue their ascent into a full upright stance, their Bolt Thrower-meets-Sanguisugabogg-meets-Rotpit riff orgy enters a new realm of ferocity, carrying a murderous momentum and relentless grooves across a dick-skin-tight 35 minutes. Vocalist Chad Green puts down a vicious performance of caveman roars, rancid rasps, and infectious barks. Matt Dennard pounds the mammoth skins with a single-minded bludgeoning that oozes blood, pus, and attitude. Bassist Samantha Mobley, always rumbling beneath these well-tread tundras, anchors the affair in muscular heft and scalpel precision (though the unforgiving compression in the mix makes her great work difficult to make out in many listening environments). Most importantly, however, are guitarists Chris Bonner’s and Michael Munday’s unflappable riffs and infectious hooks. Familiar perhaps to a fault but nonetheless brutally effective, Frozen Soul’s guitar work crests a summit on No Place of Warmth, generating heaps of energy with minimal tooling and using it to slam skulls into each other with devastating impact.

What more could you ask for in a stripped-down, meat-and-potatoes death metal record? A better mix, sure, but not much else. “Invoke War (ft. Machine Head)” brings Bolt Thrower aggression, anvils, and icepicks to my cranium with cold prejudice, leaving me a drooling mess whose only joy in life demands MOAR RIFFS. Thankfully, the slamtastic “Absolute Zero,” “Dreadnought (ft. Sanguisugabogg),” and “Skinned by the Wind,” along with mid-paced stompers “Chaos Will Reign,” “DEATHWEAVER,” and “Frost Forged” shoot overdoses of riff-laced adrenaline directly into my veins, reducing me to animalistic mindlessness. As that progresses, the urge to zoom becomes a new inconvenience in daily life, but Frozen Soul prepared for that. Rippers “No Place of Warmth (ft. Gerard Way),” “Eyes of Despair,” “Ethereal Dreams,” and “Killin Time (Until It’s Time to Kill)” roar and rage through flesh and bone with sleazy grooves that fit right at home at any local bar brawl, giving my overflowing energy reserves an outlet through fist and boot.

You might notice a rare occurrence in the preceding paragraph: I highlighted every song on No Place of Warmth to extol their virtues. This was no accident, as every track has something memorable and engaging to take away, but No Place of Warmth isn’t perfect. As mentioned earlier, No Place of Warmth is crushed pretty heavily. Consequently, Samantha’s bass struggles for audibility—despite offering ample textural heft—behind chunky guitars and ferocious roars. With a little less compression and a few tweaks to instrumental positioning, her input would be heard more fully and thereby make even greater impact. Additionally, Matt Dennard’s bass kick feels a bit plastic, creating a bit of tactile unpleasantness during initial spins. In other areas, the album’s various guest spots don’t stand out as distinctly as a guest spot should. It took a few spins to nail down Machine Head’s contributions to “Invoke War,” especially, and Gerard Way’s unexpected blackened rasps deserve greater presence, too. I still can’t confidently pick out Sanguisugabogg in “Dreadnought,” though it is a killer tune. As a criticism, this mostly points to a thoughtfulness in features that Frozen Soul neglected, but that they might easily rectify with more intentional writing that gives those features more significance and definition going forward.

All told, No Place of Warmth is more than just rock-solid Bolt Thrower worship. It is a consistently entertaining record tailor-made to ensure gains in the gym, incite massive mosh pits in any given venue, and cause spinal trauma to any receptive passers-by. It’s nothing new, and nothing groundbreaking, but its tectonic grooves and boundless vitality crack the crust regardless. Should you be in need of more quality death metal this year—and we all know you can never have too much—No Place of Warmth is a worthy part of a balanced breakfast rotation.

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: PCM
Label: Century Media Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Official | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

Texan five-banger Frozen Soul crept into my promo pile back in 2021 with their glacially imposing Crypt of Ice. Unfortunately, I missed covering the improved follow-up Glacial Domination properly, relegating it to a Filter blurb instead. But that’s no excuse for Century Media to withhold No Place of Warmth from me when it was time. No matter, because Frozen Soul deserve a full-bodied tongue bath from this hot-blooded sponge, and I intend to give it with great relish.

The Frozen Soul formula carries over into No Place of Warmth, but evolves incrementally just as Glacial Domination did three years prior. As these homo glaciali continue their ascent into a full upright stance, their Bolt Thrower-meets-Sanguisugabogg-meets-Rotpit riff orgy enters a new realm of ferocity, carrying a murderous momentum and relentless grooves across a dick-skin-tight 35 minutes. Vocalist Chad Green puts down a vicious performance of caveman roars, rancid rasps, and infectious barks. Matt Dennard pounds the mammoth skins with a single-minded bludgeoning that oozes blood, pus, and attitude. Bassist Samantha Mobley, always rumbling beneath these well-tread tundras, anchors the affair in muscular heft and scalpel precision (though the unforgiving compression in the mix makes her great work difficult to make out in many listening environments). Most importantly, however, are guitarists Chris Bonner’s and Michael Munday’s unflappable riffs and infectious hooks. Familiar perhaps to a fault but nonetheless brutally effective, Frozen Soul’s guitar work crests a summit on No Place of Warmth, generating heaps of energy with minimal tooling and using it to slam skulls into each other with devastating impact.

What more could you ask for in a stripped-down, meat-and-potatoes death metal record? A better mix, sure, but not much else. “Invoke War (ft. Machine Head)” brings Bolt Thrower aggression, anvils, and icepicks to my cranium with cold prejudice, leaving me a drooling mess whose only joy in life demands MOAR RIFFS. Thankfully, the slamtastic “Absolute Zero,” “Dreadnought (ft. Sanguisugabogg),” and “Skinned by the Wind,” along with mid-paced stompers “Chaos Will Reign,” “DEATHWEAVER,” and “Frost Forged” shoot overdoses of riff-laced adrenaline directly into my veins, reducing me to animalistic mindlessness. As that progresses, the urge to zoom becomes a new inconvenience in daily life, but Frozen Soul prepared for that. Rippers “No Place of Warmth (ft. Gerard Way),” “Eyes of Despair,” “Ethereal Dreams,” and “Killin Time (Until It’s Time to Kill)” roar and rage through flesh and bone with sleazy grooves that fit right at home at any local bar brawl, giving my overflowing energy reserves an outlet through fist and boot.

You might notice a rare occurrence in the preceding paragraph: I highlighted every song on No Place of Warmth to extol their virtues. This was no accident, as every track has something memorable and engaging to take away, but No Place of Warmth isn’t perfect. As mentioned earlier, No Place of Warmth is crushed pretty heavily. Consequently, Samantha’s bass struggles for audibility—despite offering ample textural heft—behind chunky guitars and ferocious roars. With a little less compression and a few tweaks to instrumental positioning, her input would be heard more fully and thereby make even greater impact. Additionally, Matt Dennard’s bass kick feels a bit plastic, creating a bit of tactile unpleasantness during initial spins. In other areas, the album’s various guest spots don’t stand out as distinctly as a guest spot should. It took a few spins to nail down Machine Head’s contributions to “Invoke War,” especially, and Gerard Way’s unexpected blackened rasps deserve greater presence, too. I still can’t confidently pick out Sanguisugabogg in “Dreadnought,” though it is a killer tune. As a criticism, this mostly points to a thoughtfulness in features that Frozen Soul neglected, but that they might easily rectify with more intentional writing that gives those features more significance and definition going forward.

All told, No Place of Warmth is more than just rock-solid Bolt Thrower worship. It is a consistently entertaining record tailor-made to ensure gains in the gym, incite massive mosh pits in any given venue, and cause spinal trauma to any receptive passers-by. It’s nothing new, and nothing groundbreaking, but its tectonic grooves and boundless vitality crack the crust regardless. Should you be in need of more quality death metal this year—and we all know you can never have too much—No Place of Warmth is a worthy part of a balanced breakfast rotation.

Rating: Very Good!
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: PCM
Label: Century Media Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Official | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: May 8th, 2026

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I’ve gone back and forth about how to introduce The Ghost of a Future Dead, the eighth full-length by legendary Swedish death metal innovators At The Gates, the first with the returning Anders Björler back on lead guitar and songwriting duties (along with his twin brother, bassist Jonas) and also the final album featuring the late, great Tomas “Tompa” Lindberg, who sadly succumbed to a rare-but-super-aggressive bout of cancer in September of 2025. This introductory paragraph (and review) has been typed, deleted, reworded, deleted, approached differently, deleted, etc. so many times that I’ve lost count and given myself a colossal migraine in overthinking, over-evaluating, and over-justifying. But there comes a point where, in my month of listening to this, you have to say “fuck it,” and proceed in the direction that your gut, heart, and ears are guiding you towards. I will simply state that The Ghost of a Future Dead is many things.

What it’s not, however, is a pity party. Like anyone else with a conscience and heart, I was devastated to read about what Lindberg went through over the last few years with his battle against Adenoid Cystic Carcinoma, and was heartbroken when he died after a bravely-fought battle. You wouldn’t know he was struggling upon listening to the album, however, as Lindberg was in fine form here. His delivery has never been this potent, this acidic, with lead-off single “The Fever Mask” demonstrating his caustic delivery just fine. Elsewhere, “Det oerhörda,” the first At The Gates song written entirely in Swedish, further channels Lindberg’s rage and intensity. The fact that he performed all his parts, in one day and mostly in one take on the day before his surgery, before his bandmates even recorded anything is nothing short of impressive, as it doesn’t sound like it at all.

The Ghost of a Future Dead (24-bit HD audio) by At The Gates

Speaking of his bandmates, to say they all brought their A-game would be a grotesque understatement. To be frank, this is the At The Gates album I was craving when they first reunited back in 2010.1 Everyone went all-out, and the results are ridiculous. Both Björler brothers and fellow guitarist Martin Larsson hurl riff after monstrous riff at you, but also know how to construct some damn fine harmonies like on “The Fever Mask” and “A Ritual of Waste.” As for Adrian Erlandsson, his fills and embellishments border on the criminal. I’m sure the rather obscene breakdown section of “The Unfathomable” is considered illegal in most countries, with Erlandsson incorporating a well-placed ride cymbal “TING!” at just the right time2 to send people into a pit-inducing frenzy. In fact, with the exception of moody instrumental “Förgängligheten,” The Ghost is just fire and rage from beginning to glorious end, and all four instrumentalists paid loving, yet visceral, tribute to a fallen bandmate and brother on here.

The Jens Bogren production also elevates The Ghost into the upper echelons of At The Gates’ discography. Both the guitars and the drums radiate a profound heft and clarity. Speaking of clarity, being able to make out Jonas’ basslines is much, much appreciated, as he can play his ass off. Also speaking of Jonas, one thing I noticed was the more progressive leanings that he incorporated on To Drink From the Night Itself and The Nightmare of Being are still present at times, like on “The Dissonant Void,” might be reduced significantly, but they’re present and better incorporated, leading to a better impact overall. For 42 minutes and some change, The Ghost is the sound of everyone firing on all cylinders.

Full admission: everyone behind the scenes at Angry Metal Guy wanted to hear The Ghost of a Future Dead, but nobody wanted to review it. If it sucked,3 no one understandably wanted to say as much. If it were legitimately good, people would say that it’s said out of grief, trying to fit in with established publications, or some other bullshit reason. In this case, since it goes toe-to-toe with their best work (and in some ways surpasses them), it’s all those reasons plus receiving an unnecessary amount of grief from the comments section, crying about the audacity of giving it the score it ultimately received, despite all justification on my part. So I’ll take it on the chin for the team and state that yes, The Ghost of a Future Dead deserves the score due to the quality, ferociousness, and heart on display. If this ends up being At The Gates’ swansong,4 this is a hell of a way to go out, as they dropped another classic on our sorry asses. Awesome job, to all those involved. Rest in power, Tompa.

Rating: 5.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: Century Media Records
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: April 24th, 2026

Tired? Irritable? Prone to bouts of melancholy that leave you feeling listless and unfocused, particularly as the weather changes? It could be seasonal affective disorder, but these symptoms can also typify a diet deficient in vitamin R(iff). If it’s the latter, Hellripper’s Coronach practically hemorrhages the cure for what ails you, parading pulse-pounding riffs, blistering solos, and enthralling grooves with palliative nonchalance. Unleashing Hellripper’s fourth album in under a decade, architect and sole member James McBain maintains a tried-and-true release schedule and, more importantly, a steady evolution of sophisticated songwriting that’s as compelling as it is emboldening. I won’t mince words—Coronach is an undeniable corker and succeeds as Hellripper’s greatest triumph to date. So run down to your local or digital dealer and grab some Coronach posthaste!

Expanding on the achievements of Hellripper’s previous albums, Coronach harnesses the charm of earlier releases and injects them with a lethal dose of vitality. Back in 2017, debut Coagulating Darkness bled its influences on its sleeve, from riffs dripping with warp-speed Venom to the guitar lead from “Bastard of Hades” pulled straight from Metallica’s “Hit the Lights.” The Affair of the Poisons shaped Hellripper’s identity with flurries of licks that, while still laced with influences, exuded a welcome dimension of originality. Three years ago, Warlocks Grim & Withered Hags’ introduced knotted, longer-form compositions that pushed out the runtime while augmenting Hellripper’s arsenal of aural ammunition. With Coronach, Hellripper strikes a balance between the lengthier arrangements of Warlocks and the breakneck blackened bangers of yore, amplified by stellar performances throughout.

Coronach (24-bit HD audio) by Hellripper

Coronach overflows with electrifying instrumentation, and while McBain supplies most of Hellripper’s sonic ingredients, a few guests further enrich its proceedings. Searing leads and scorching solos set Coronach’s eight tracks aflame, boasting some of the hookiest guitar-playing I’ve heard this year. “Hunderprest” and “Blakk Satanik Fvkkstorm” crackle with flashy fretwork, buoyed by longtime six-string contributor Joseph Quinlan (Desert Heretic). Similarly, “Kinchyle (Goatkraft and Granite)” rumbles with snappy Motörheadstrong riffs before an acoustic guitar cuts in to transition the song into slinky grooves and heavy half-times. After some interplay, the pace ramps back up to close out on the intro riff. Hellripper has never lacked for earworms, yet Coronach unveils a mature understanding of dynamic songwriting that endows depth and complexity while never sounding forced or unnatural. Besides Quinlan, Jess Townsend contributes violin on “Baobhan Sith (Waltz of the Damned),” while singer Marianne returns to lend her vocals on a few tracks and Antonio Rodriguez reprises the bagpipes on closer “Coronach.” Vacuous’s Max Southall even bestows some percussive flair on “Mortercheyn.” Between himself and the talented musicians he’s assembled, it’s clear that while McBain is comfortable with his supporting cast, he’s determined not to put out the same album twice.

What impresses me most with Coronach is that McBain manages to broaden Hellripper’s auditory palette without ever losing the band’s core identity. “Hunderprest” and “Coronach” brim with the band’s trademark rippin’ riffs, yet the solos recall southern rock shredding à la Lynyrd Skynyrd or The Outlaws played at one-and-a-half speed. “Sculptor’s Cave,” meanwhile, channels what El Cuervo affectionately dubbed ‘Motörhead on cocaine’ energy during its “Rock ‘n’ Roll”-informed solo. A pervasive punk attitude also shimmers beneath the surface of Coronach, where the unadorned guitar refrains from “Kinchyle (Goatkraft and Granite),” “Sculptor’s Cave,” and “Mortercheyn” evoke more technical versions of Bad Religion and The Offspring. Tying it all together and allowing the myriad influences to coalesce, the mix ensures this is the best Hellripper has sounded, retaining their raw edge while dialing back the ‘everything louder than everything else’ approach that afflicted past albums—The Affair of the Poisons in particular.

Doubtlessly, Hellripper has dropped their finest release so far with Coronach, though a few small adjustments could have boosted it to undisputed excellence. “Baobhan Sith (Waltz of the Damned)” runs a tad too long, and although I like “Mortercheyn,” it doesn’t quite live up to the heights of the other tracks. Even so, I unapologetically return to Coronach again and again with no signs of slowing down. Just remember—Coronach must be taken while driving or operating heavy machinery. If lethargy creeps in or your mouth runs dry from a chronic deficit of Vitamin R, just take one to two doses of Coronach (by ear) and wait for Hellripper’s restorative fix to kick in.1

Rating: Great!!
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Century Media Records
Websites: Website | Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026

Tired? Irritable? Prone to bouts of melancholy that leave you feeling listless and unfocused, particularly as the weather changes? It could be seasonal affective disorder, but these symptoms can also typify a diet deficient in vitamin R(iff). If it’s the latter, Hellripper’s Coronach practically hemorrhages the cure for what ails you, parading pulse-pounding riffs, blistering solos, and enthralling grooves with palliative nonchalance. Unleashing Hellripper’s fourth album in under a decade, architect and sole member James McBain maintains a tried-and-true release schedule and, more importantly, a steady evolution of sophisticated songwriting that’s as compelling as it is emboldening. I won’t mince words—Coronach is an undeniable corker and succeeds as Hellripper’s greatest triumph to date. So run down to your local or digital dealer and grab some Coronach posthaste!

Expanding on the achievements of Hellripper’s previous albums, Coronach harnesses the charm of earlier releases and injects them with a lethal dose of vitality. Back in 2017, debut Coagulating Darkness bled its influences on its sleeve, from riffs dripping with warp-speed Venom to the guitar lead from “Bastard of Hades” pulled straight from Metallica’s “Hit the Lights.” The Affair of the Poisons shaped Hellripper’s identity with flurries of licks that, while still laced with influences, exuded a welcome dimension of originality. Three years ago, Warlocks Grim & Withered Hags’ introduced knotted, longer-form compositions that pushed out the runtime while augmenting Hellripper’s arsenal of aural ammunition. With Coronach, Hellripper strikes a balance between the lengthier arrangements of Warlocks and the breakneck blackened bangers of yore, amplified by stellar performances throughout.

Coronach (24-bit HD audio) by Hellripper

Coronach overflows with electrifying instrumentation, and while McBain supplies most of Hellripper’s sonic ingredients, a few guests further enrich its proceedings. Searing leads and scorching solos set Coronach’s eight tracks aflame, boasting some of the hookiest guitar-playing I’ve heard this year. “Hunderprest” and “Blakk Satanik Fvkkstorm” crackle with flashy fretwork, buoyed by longtime six-string contributor Joseph Quinlan (Desert Heretic). Similarly, “Kinchyle (Goatkraft and Granite)” rumbles with snappy Motörheadstrong riffs before an acoustic guitar cuts in to transition the song into slinky grooves and heavy half-times. After some interplay, the pace ramps back up to close out on the intro riff. Hellripper has never lacked for earworms, yet Coronach unveils a mature understanding of dynamic songwriting that endows depth and complexity while never sounding forced or unnatural. Besides Quinlan, Jess Townsend contributes violin on “Baobhan Sith (Waltz of the Damned),” while singer Marianne returns to lend her vocals on a few tracks and Antonio Rodriguez reprises the bagpipes on closer “Coronach.” Vacuous’s Max Southall even bestows some percussive flair on “Mortercheyn.” Between himself and the talented musicians he’s assembled, it’s clear that while McBain is comfortable with his supporting cast, he’s determined not to put out the same album twice.

What impresses me most with Coronach is that McBain manages to broaden Hellripper’s auditory palette without ever losing the band’s core identity. “Hunderprest” and “Coronach” brim with the band’s trademark rippin’ riffs, yet the solos recall southern rock shredding à la Lynyrd Skynyrd or The Outlaws played at one-and-a-half speed. “Sculptor’s Cave,” meanwhile, channels what El Cuervo affectionately dubbed ‘Motörhead on cocaine’ energy during its “Rock ‘n’ Roll”-informed solo. A pervasive punk attitude also shimmers beneath the surface of Coronach, where the unadorned guitar refrains from “Kinchyle (Goatkraft and Granite),” “Sculptor’s Cave,” and “Mortercheyn” evoke more technical versions of Bad Religion and The Offspring. Tying it all together and allowing the myriad influences to coalesce, the mix ensures this is the best Hellripper has sounded, retaining their raw edge while dialing back the ‘everything louder than everything else’ approach that afflicted past albums—The Affair of the Poisons in particular.

Doubtlessly, Hellripper has dropped their finest release so far with Coronach, though a few small adjustments could have boosted it to undisputed excellence. “Baobhan Sith (Waltz of the Damned)” runs a tad too long, and although I like “Mortercheyn,” it doesn’t quite live up to the heights of the other tracks. Even so, I unapologetically return to Coronach again and again with no signs of slowing down. Just remember—Coronach must be taken while driving or operating heavy machinery. If lethargy creeps in or your mouth runs dry from a chronic deficit of Vitamin R, just take one to two doses of Coronach (by ear) and wait for Hellripper’s restorative fix to kick in.1

Rating: Great!!
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Century Media Records
Websites: Website | Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026

Tired? Irritable? Prone to bouts of melancholy that leave you feeling listless and unfocused, particularly as the weather changes? It could be seasonal affective disorder, but these symptoms can also typify a diet deficient in vitamin R(iff). If it’s the latter, Hellripper’s Coronach practically hemorrhages the cure for what ails you, parading pulse-pounding riffs, blistering solos, and enthralling grooves with palliative nonchalance. Unleashing Hellripper’s fourth album in under a decade, architect and sole member James McBain maintains a tried-and-true release schedule and, more importantly, a steady evolution of sophisticated songwriting that’s as compelling as it is emboldening. I won’t mince words—Coronach is an undeniable corker and succeeds as Hellripper’s greatest triumph to date. So run down to your local or digital dealer and grab some Coronach posthaste!

Expanding on the achievements of Hellripper’s previous albums, Coronach harnesses the charm of earlier releases and injects them with a lethal dose of vitality. Back in 2017, debut Coagulating Darkness bled its influences on its sleeve, from riffs dripping with warp-speed Venom to the guitar lead from “Bastard of Hades” pulled straight from Metallica’s “Hit the Lights.” The Affair of the Poisons shaped Hellripper’s identity with flurries of licks that, while still laced with influences, exuded a welcome dimension of originality. Three years ago, Warlocks Grim & Withered Hags’ introduced knotted, longer-form compositions that pushed out the runtime while augmenting Hellripper’s arsenal of aural ammunition. With Coronach, Hellripper strikes a balance between the lengthier arrangements of Warlocks and the breakneck blackened bangers of yore, amplified by stellar performances throughout.

Coronach (24-bit HD audio) by Hellripper

Coronach overflows with electrifying instrumentation, and while McBain supplies most of Hellripper’s sonic ingredients, a few guests further enrich its proceedings. Searing leads and scorching solos set Coronach’s eight tracks aflame, boasting some of the hookiest guitar-playing I’ve heard this year. “Hunderprest” and “Blakk Satanik Fvkkstorm” crackle with flashy fretwork, buoyed by longtime six-string contributor Joseph Quinlan (Desert Heretic). Similarly, “Kinchyle (Goatkraft and Granite)” rumbles with snappy Motörheadstrong riffs before an acoustic guitar cuts in to transition the song into slinky grooves and heavy half-times. After some interplay, the pace ramps back up to close out on the intro riff. Hellripper has never lacked for earworms, yet Coronach unveils a mature understanding of dynamic songwriting that endows depth and complexity while never sounding forced or unnatural. Besides Quinlan, Jess Townsend contributes violin on “Baobhan Sith (Waltz of the Damned),” while singer Marianne returns to lend her vocals on a few tracks and Antonio Rodriguez reprises the bagpipes on closer “Coronach.” Vacuous’s Max Southall even bestows some percussive flair on “Mortercheyn.” Between himself and the talented musicians he’s assembled, it’s clear that while McBain is comfortable with his supporting cast, he’s determined not to put out the same album twice.

What impresses me most with Coronach is that McBain manages to broaden Hellripper’s auditory palette without ever losing the band’s core identity. “Hunderprest” and “Coronach” brim with the band’s trademark rippin’ riffs, yet the solos recall southern rock shredding à la Lynyrd Skynyrd or The Outlaws played at one-and-a-half speed. “Sculptor’s Cave,” meanwhile, channels what El Cuervo affectionately dubbed ‘Motörhead on cocaine’ energy during its “Rock ‘n’ Roll”-informed solo. A pervasive punk attitude also shimmers beneath the surface of Coronach, where the unadorned guitar refrains from “Kinchyle (Goatkraft and Granite),” “Sculptor’s Cave,” and “Mortercheyn” evoke more technical versions of Bad Religion and The Offspring. Tying it all together and allowing the myriad influences to coalesce, the mix ensures this is the best Hellripper has sounded, retaining their raw edge while dialing back the ‘everything louder than everything else’ approach that afflicted past albums—The Affair of the Poisons in particular.

Doubtlessly, Hellripper has dropped their finest release so far with Coronach, though a few small adjustments could have boosted it to undisputed excellence. “Baobhan Sith (Waltz of the Damned)” runs a tad too long, and although I like “Mortercheyn,” it doesn’t quite live up to the heights of the other tracks. Even so, I unapologetically return to Coronach again and again with no signs of slowing down. Just remember—Coronach must be taken while driving or operating heavy machinery. If lethargy creeps in or your mouth runs dry from a chronic deficit of Vitamin R, just take one to two doses of Coronach (by ear) and wait for Hellripper’s restorative fix to kick in.1

Rating: Great!!
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Century Media Records
Websites: Website | Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026

Tired? Irritable? Prone to bouts of melancholy that leave you feeling listless and unfocused, particularly as the weather changes? It could be seasonal affective disorder, but these symptoms can also typify a diet deficient in vitamin R(iff). If it’s the latter, Hellripper’s Coronach practically hemorrhages the cure for what ails you, parading pulse-pounding riffs, blistering solos, and enthralling grooves with palliative nonchalance. Unleashing Hellripper’s fourth album in under a decade, architect and sole member James McBain maintains a tried-and-true release schedule and, more importantly, a steady evolution of sophisticated songwriting that’s as compelling as it is emboldening. I won’t mince words—Coronach is an undeniable corker and succeeds as Hellripper’s greatest triumph to date. So run down to your local or digital dealer and grab some Coronach posthaste!

Expanding on the achievements of Hellripper’s previous albums, Coronach harnesses the charm of earlier releases and injects them with a lethal dose of vitality. Back in 2017, debut Coagulating Darkness bled its influences on its sleeve, from riffs dripping with warp-speed Venom to the guitar lead from “Bastard of Hades” pulled straight from Metallica’s “Hit the Lights.” The Affair of the Poisons shaped Hellripper’s identity with flurries of licks that, while still laced with influences, exuded a welcome dimension of originality. Three years ago, Warlocks Grim & Withered Hags’ introduced knotted, longer-form compositions that pushed out the runtime while augmenting Hellripper’s arsenal of aural ammunition. With Coronach, Hellripper strikes a balance between the lengthier arrangements of Warlocks and the breakneck blackened bangers of yore, amplified by stellar performances throughout.

Coronach (24-bit HD audio) by Hellripper

Coronach overflows with electrifying instrumentation, and while McBain supplies most of Hellripper’s sonic ingredients, a few guests further enrich its proceedings. Searing leads and scorching solos set Coronach’s eight tracks aflame, boasting some of the hookiest guitar-playing I’ve heard this year. “Hunderprest” and “Blakk Satanik Fvkkstorm” crackle with flashy fretwork, buoyed by longtime six-string contributor Joseph Quinlan (Desert Heretic). Similarly, “Kinchyle (Goatkraft and Granite)” rumbles with snappy Motörheadstrong riffs before an acoustic guitar cuts in to transition the song into slinky grooves and heavy half-times. After some interplay, the pace ramps back up to close out on the intro riff. Hellripper has never lacked for earworms, yet Coronach unveils a mature understanding of dynamic songwriting that endows depth and complexity while never sounding forced or unnatural. Besides Quinlan, Jess Townsend contributes violin on “Baobhan Sith (Waltz of the Damned),” while singer Marianne returns to lend her vocals on a few tracks and Antonio Rodriguez reprises the bagpipes on closer “Coronach.” Vacuous’s Max Southall even bestows some percussive flair on “Mortercheyn.” Between himself and the talented musicians he’s assembled, it’s clear that while McBain is comfortable with his supporting cast, he’s determined not to put out the same album twice.

What impresses me most with Coronach is that McBain manages to broaden Hellripper’s auditory palette without ever losing the band’s core identity. “Hunderprest” and “Coronach” brim with the band’s trademark rippin’ riffs, yet the solos recall southern rock shredding à la Lynyrd Skynyrd or The Outlaws played at one-and-a-half speed. “Sculptor’s Cave,” meanwhile, channels what El Cuervo affectionately dubbed ‘Motörhead on cocaine’ energy during its “Rock ‘n’ Roll”-informed solo. A pervasive punk attitude also shimmers beneath the surface of Coronach, where the unadorned guitar refrains from “Kinchyle (Goatkraft and Granite),” “Sculptor’s Cave,” and “Mortercheyn” evoke more technical versions of Bad Religion and The Offspring. Tying it all together and allowing the myriad influences to coalesce, the mix ensures this is the best Hellripper has sounded, retaining their raw edge while dialing back the ‘everything louder than everything else’ approach that afflicted past albums—The Affair of the Poisons in particular.

Doubtlessly, Hellripper has dropped their finest release so far with Coronach, though a few small adjustments could have boosted it to undisputed excellence. “Baobhan Sith (Waltz of the Damned)” runs a tad too long, and although I like “Mortercheyn,” it doesn’t quite live up to the heights of the other tracks. Even so, I unapologetically return to Coronach again and again with no signs of slowing down. Just remember—Coronach must be taken while driving or operating heavy machinery. If lethargy creeps in or your mouth runs dry from a chronic deficit of Vitamin R, just take one to two doses of Coronach (by ear) and wait for Hellripper’s restorative fix to kick in.1

Rating: Great!!
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Century Media Records
Websites: Website | Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026

Tired? Irritable? Prone to bouts of melancholy that leave you feeling listless and unfocused, particularly as the weather changes? It could be seasonal affective disorder, but these symptoms can also typify a diet deficient in vitamin R(iff). If it’s the latter, Hellripper’s Coronach practically hemorrhages the cure for what ails you, parading pulse-pounding riffs, blistering solos, and enthralling grooves with palliative nonchalance. Unleashing Hellripper’s fourth album in under a decade, architect and sole member James McBain maintains a tried-and-true release schedule and, more importantly, a steady evolution of sophisticated songwriting that’s as compelling as it is emboldening. I won’t mince words—Coronach is an undeniable corker and succeeds as Hellripper’s greatest triumph to date. So run down to your local or digital dealer and grab some Coronach posthaste!

Expanding on the achievements of Hellripper’s previous albums, Coronach harnesses the charm of earlier releases and injects them with a lethal dose of vitality. Back in 2017, debut Coagulating Darkness bled its influences on its sleeve, from riffs dripping with warp-speed Venom to the guitar lead from “Bastard of Hades” pulled straight from Metallica’s “Hit the Lights.” The Affair of the Poisons shaped Hellripper’s identity with flurries of licks that, while still laced with influences, exuded a welcome dimension of originality. Three years ago, Warlocks Grim & Withered Hags’ introduced knotted, longer-form compositions that pushed out the runtime while augmenting Hellripper’s arsenal of aural ammunition. With Coronach, Hellripper strikes a balance between the lengthier arrangements of Warlocks and the breakneck blackened bangers of yore, amplified by stellar performances throughout.

Coronach (24-bit HD audio) by Hellripper

Coronach overflows with electrifying instrumentation, and while McBain supplies most of Hellripper’s sonic ingredients, a few guests further enrich its proceedings. Searing leads and scorching solos set Coronach’s eight tracks aflame, boasting some of the hookiest guitar-playing I’ve heard this year. “Hunderprest” and “Blakk Satanik Fvkkstorm” crackle with flashy fretwork, buoyed by longtime six-string contributor Joseph Quinlan (Desert Heretic). Similarly, “Kinchyle (Goatkraft and Granite)” rumbles with snappy Motörheadstrong riffs before an acoustic guitar cuts in to transition the song into slinky grooves and heavy half-times. After some interplay, the pace ramps back up to close out on the intro riff. Hellripper has never lacked for earworms, yet Coronach unveils a mature understanding of dynamic songwriting that endows depth and complexity while never sounding forced or unnatural. Besides Quinlan, Jess Townsend contributes violin on “Baobhan Sith (Waltz of the Damned),” while singer Marianne returns to lend her vocals on a few tracks and Antonio Rodriguez reprises the bagpipes on closer “Coronach.” Vacuous’s Max Southall even bestows some percussive flair on “Mortercheyn.” Between himself and the talented musicians he’s assembled, it’s clear that while McBain is comfortable with his supporting cast, he’s determined not to put out the same album twice.

What impresses me most with Coronach is that McBain manages to broaden Hellripper’s auditory palette without ever losing the band’s core identity. “Hunderprest” and “Coronach” brim with the band’s trademark rippin’ riffs, yet the solos recall southern rock shredding à la Lynyrd Skynyrd or The Outlaws played at one-and-a-half speed. “Sculptor’s Cave,” meanwhile, channels what El Cuervo affectionately dubbed ‘Motörhead on cocaine’ energy during its “Rock ‘n’ Roll”-informed solo. A pervasive punk attitude also shimmers beneath the surface of Coronach, where the unadorned guitar refrains from “Kinchyle (Goatkraft and Granite),” “Sculptor’s Cave,” and “Mortercheyn” evoke more technical versions of Bad Religion and The Offspring. Tying it all together and allowing the myriad influences to coalesce, the mix ensures this is the best Hellripper has sounded, retaining their raw edge while dialing back the ‘everything louder than everything else’ approach that afflicted past albums—The Affair of the Poisons in particular.

Doubtlessly, Hellripper has dropped their finest release so far with Coronach, though a few small adjustments could have boosted it to undisputed excellence. “Baobhan Sith (Waltz of the Damned)” runs a tad too long, and although I like “Mortercheyn,” it doesn’t quite live up to the heights of the other tracks. Even so, I unapologetically return to Coronach again and again with no signs of slowing down. Just remember—Coronach must be taken while driving or operating heavy machinery. If lethargy creeps in or your mouth runs dry from a chronic deficit of Vitamin R, just take one to two doses of Coronach (by ear) and wait for Hellripper’s restorative fix to kick in.1

Rating: Great!!
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Century Media Records
Websites: Website | Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: March 27th, 2026

https://www.europesays.com/fr/746135/ ARCH ENEMY Un nouveau single, une nouvelle frontwoman et des concerts annoncés #AEG #ArchEnemy #CenturyMediaRecords #Divertissement #Entertainment #FR #France #LaMaroquinerie #LaurenHart #Music #musique

Worms are rich fodder for metal band names,1 and it’s not hard to see why. They’re gross, alienlike, and carry connotations of death and decay; and that’s before you start spelling it with a ‘v’ and thereby reference dragons, sea monsters, and the Devil himself. While sharing the collective imagination, this Worm definitely distinguishes themselves. After a shaky start, it was Foreverglade that first saw Worm realize their potential with a lean towards doom-death that retained just enough synth-forward black metal and balanced a murky soundscape with syrupy sweet guitar solos. Since then, Bluenothing and Dream Unending split Starpath developed this characteristic sound, extending further into the spooky and atmospheric, whilst never losing sight of the slimy heaviness that apparently makes their music inaccessible to around 99% of the human population. Necropalace being released on Century Media indicates the kind of meteoric rise the band has recently enjoyed,2 but far from selling out, it’s this album that feels like Worm being the most entirely and unapologetically themselves they’ve ever been; and it pays off.

Necropalace is instantly identifiable as a Worm album: disEMBOWELMENT-esque cavernous doom-death, a dungeon-synth level of fondness for keyboards, and surprisingly beautiful lead guitars all echoing in a cavernous mist. However, following the trajectory set by the interim EP and split, the music now channels a different subgenre of horror. The grandiosity is more theatrical than imposing, the tone is haunting not by a sense of dread, but by an almost camp spookiness, and more time than before is given over to explosive forays into faster tempos. That may sound bad, but it’s brilliant. This expansion into pretty much all black metal has to offer musically gives Worm’s signature interweaving of sinister heaviness and eerie echoey melody room to spread its wings and express all the otherworldly magic and brooding drama it always teased. In Necropalace, Worm transform fully from the swamp beast of yore into the haunted-castle-guarding dragon out of some weird dream nightmare.

Necropalace (24-bit HD audio) by Worm

Everything unique and great about Worm finds a new, more vibrant side on Necropalace. The drawling doom is gloomier; the guitar melodies more exuberant; the reverb and distortion more huge; the atmosphere richer; the synths, ominous choirs, and bells, and distortion more delicious. Guitarist Wroth Septentrion—a.k.a Philippe Tougas of First Fragment—holds nothing back. Dazzling flourishes (“Halls of Weeping”) and lush, crooning refrains (“The Night Has Fangs,” “Blackheart”) spill across the resonant black(ened doom), and arc upwards in great swoops (“Necropalace,” Witchmoon: The Infernal Masquerade”). It’s the most beautiful Worm has ever been, yet retains that layer of grime Worm is so recognisable for. It works so well thanks to supernaturally perfect interplay between keyboard and guitar, where each is expressive and layered in their own right (“Gates to the Shadowzone (Intro)”), and picks up or embellishes the other’s lines. A vibrant dance of strings comes naturally from tense chords of choir (“The Night Has Fangs”) or piano cascades out of dirt-laden riffs (“Necropalace,” “Witchmoon”), and the purring rhythms of synth bleed seamlessly into extreme metal (“Necropalace,” “Dragon Dreams”). The crashing drums and clattering swords, rising synths and bold keys, and the way Phantom Slaughter’s shrieking or apathetic spoken-word echoes phantasmally—all folded into these strikingly melodic forms—together create a kind of operatic melodrama that is endlessly fun to experience.

At this point, I’d normally be adding a caveat, and I’m not starved for choice, in theory. Necropalace is just over an hour long, which might be too much time in the Shadowzone for some, but the time absolutely flies by. A reluctance to edit is also implied by the typically unpopular use of an intro with instrumental “Gates to the Shadowzone (Intro),” which—unlike on Foreverglade3—actually is a shorter track. As its title implies, however, its ominous dungeon synth and shimmering soloing work well to induct the listener into the weird world that follows. And the guitarwork of Marty Friedman—who guests on closer “Witchmoon”—fits so brilliantly with everything Worm has crafted up to this point that it acts as a final, epic flourish that more than capitalises on his—and every member’s—skill.

Despite committing so fully to the spooky and loosening the reins on compositional structure and melody, Worm has not lost their grip on writing heavy, engaging songs. With its bombastic sense of fun and theatricality and a beauty that stays firmly entrenched in the dark and dirty, Necropalace shows Worm evolving in a way that magnifies rather than dilutes their personality. If more people hear it due to signing with a bigger label, then that’s only a good thing. I can’t stop listening myself. This is the album Worm was born to create.

Rating: Excellent
DR: ?4 | Format Reviewed: Stream
Label: Century Media
Website: Bandcamp | Instagram
Releases Worldwide: February 13th, 2026

Mayhem’s reputation will forever be linked to their early days, inescapably tethered to the chaos of death. While it’s impossible not to acknowledge those grisly events when considering the band’s legacy, they detract from the unyielding musical vision Mayhem has etched into metal mythology. From the beginning, Mayhem has been at the forefront as one of black metal’s tastemakers and breath-takers. Over four decades in, Mayhem returns with Liturgy of Death—a fitting subject considering the band’s sordid origins and their penchant for metaphysical musings. This far into their career, does Mayhem still command the black metal magic that has shaped the genre for decades?

Before Mysteriisly disappearing, Diabolus in Muzaka astutely observed in Daemon’s review, ‘Mayhem’s career is an anthology, not an arc.’ This neatly summarizes the band’s approach, as they take their time to craft each album around a central motif. Sure, there’s been discourse around the direction they take at times, and while not every album pleases every fan, I can’t deny that each time Mayhem releases a new LP, I’m reliably presented with a fully committed statement. On Liturgy of Death, Mayhem unravels the threads of mortality and, from various perspectives, examines fate’s inexorable call, confronting one of life’s unifying truths with cold clarity.

Liturgy of Death (24-bit HD audio) by Mayhem

Musically, Mayhem is in top form throughout Liturgy of Death, with each musician discharging devastating drama. Attila Csihar delivers an inspired performance, croaking and growling in animalistic throes and belting out grandiose, operatic cleans that are jarring yet effective (“Despair”). His diverse stylings cover an extensive array of emotions surrounding death’s isolating embrace, from primal denial to stoic acceptance, and throughout Attila oozes poise and pathos. Instrumentally, Mayhem’s rhythm section drives Liturgy of Death’s momentum with unabashed candor, rarely reaching for frills or frippery while impressing with unapologetic assuredness. Hellhammer pounds and pummels with punishing grooves, maintaining steady blast beats for herculean stretches (“Ephemeral Eternity,” “Aeon’s End”) and bursting forth with exacting fills and skull-battering rolls when needed (“Propitious Death”). Necrobutcher wields the bass with a malicious punch, rumbling with dour fluidity and occasionally thrumming into the spotlight (“Realm of Endless Misery”). Guitarists Teloch and Ghul torch proceedings with six-string truculence, whipping out spidery riffs (“Weep for Nothing”) in between furious, second-wave trems (“Funeral of Existence”) and erratic solos (“Aeon’s End”). Liturgy of Death culminates in “The Sentence of Absolution,” Mayhem’s most powerful closer to date. After a slow-build intro, dissonant guitars bleat as Hellhammer’s calculated fury propels the track into swirling, hypnotic rhythms that fade into tribal drumming and chanting, climaxing in a restrained denouement that’s unparalleled in Mayhem’s oeuvre.1

Considering the strength of Mayhem’s thematic and musical execution, Liturgy of Death leaves little fault to find. At a reasonable forty-nine minutes, the Norwegian outfit’s latest offering crams in oodles of ideas and perspectives. Given the aural onslaught on tap, the mix affords ample space to discern what the guitars, bass, and drums are doing while the vocals retain presence and coherence. At its busiest, Liturgy of Death can sound compressed and overloud, but these moments are rare and don’t distract or overwhelm.2 Otherwise, the only drawback to a composition this dense is that it’s easy to let Mayhem’s subtle wiles slip past during casual spins. I enjoyed Liturgy of Death from the outset, but only after multiple active listens did I come to truly appreciate its dizzying ambition. This ultimately acts as a boon for Liturgy, as dedicated time with it rewards listeners with a surfeit of concepts and conclusions, and leaves me wanting to replay it once more as soon as the last track ends.

With Liturgy of Death, Mayhem presents a tightly wound and philosophical composition on one of life’s most unsettling inevitabilities, and in doing so continues to defy AMG’s Law of Diminishing Recordings™. Above all, Mayhem endures, reaffirming their place amongst metal’s most lionized acts, bearing a relevant and thought-provoking theme that’s as inescapable as it is multifaceted. Never content to compromise, Mayhem once again demonstrates why they’re the standard so many black metal bands are measured by. It’s always refreshing to see influential bands muster this kind of success so far into their careers. Don’t take my word for it, though—grab your corpse paint and go get liturgical!

Rating: Excellent
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: De Misery Dom Streamthanas
Label: Century Media Records
Websites: Website | Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: February 6th, 2026

https://www.europesays.com/ie/308307/ Crystal Lake – The Weight of Sound Review #2.0 #2026 #BuryYourDead #CenturyMediaRecords #Counterparts #CrystalLake #Deathcore #djent #Éire #Entertainment #Erra #FireFromTheGods #Hardcore #IE #Ireland #Jan26 #JapaneseMetal #KillswitchEngage #Knosis #LeftToSuffer #MelodicHardcore #metalcore #MiserySignals #Music #NuMetal #ParkwayDrive #Review #Reviews #SevenHoursAfterViolet #SignsOfTheSwarm #TheGhostInside #TheLastTenSecondsOfLife #TheWeightOfSound #Volumes

Crystal Lake is one of those bands that I lost track of. I adored 2015’s The Sign, its blend of hardcore attitude with a surgical metalcore attack and just enough djent and deathcore to make things interesting resulted in some of my all-time favorites in the style (“Prometheus,” “Matrix,” “Hades”). Yes, it’s knuckleheaded and boner-dragging brutality posturing, but for a jolt of breakdown-heavy sonic adrenaline, the Japanese quintet fit the bill. I lost track of them, with albums True North and Helix toning down the weight for an Erra-inspired atmospheric metalcore sound. It has been eight years since Helix entered the scene with a thud, so what can we expect from The Weight of Sound?

The Weight of Sound is the heft of change and consistency alike for Crystal Lake. A notable change is the departure of long-time vocalist Ryo Kinoshita, who released the debut for his solo project Knosis last year, and was replaced by John Robert Centorrino, former vocalist of The Last Ten Seconds of Life. The band acknowledges that Kinoshita’s shoes are nearly impossible to fill; to supplement, Centorrino is backed by an array of guest vocalists: David Simonich of Signs of the Swarm, Taylor Barber of Left to Suffer and Seven Hours After Violet, Myke Terry of Volumes and Fire from the Gods,1 Karl Schubach of Misery Signals and Jesse Leach of Killswitch Engage. Consistently, however, the instrumental approach is the same, bringing back the nu-metal-meets-djent-meets-hardcore chugs (whose absence made the last two outings toothless), as well as that trademark ethereal guitar layers. The result, however, falls woefully short compared to Crystal Lake’s landmark albums, as the knuckleheaded overtakes the thoughtful and the vocals become a monotonous muck.

The Weight of Sound (24-bit HD audio) by Crystal Lake

For positives, when Crystal Lake manages to balance the heavy and the atmospheric, tracks can truly soar. Yearning chord progressions, layers of melodies and sustained trills, and desperate vocals combine to add a nice dose of melancholy and fury, accented by the band’s signature guitar tone that balances djent weight with hardcore urgency. Even Centorrino’s cleans are a nice addition throughout these tracks, distant shouts or croons that recall Brett Gurewitz’s guest spot in Parkway Drive’s “Home is for the Heartless:”: tasteful and subtle. These tracks primarily populate the back half, a calm after the storm of metalcore pummeling, complete with a more somber mood (“The Undertow,” “The Weight of Sound,” “Sinners,” “Coma Wave”) that recalls more melodic hardcore-inflected metalcore acts like Counterparts or The Ghost Inside. The patience in the songwriting of these moments is also noteworthy, as movements feel nicely unhurried and appropriately contemplative.

Crystal Lake’s balance of the atmosphere and chug, as well as vocal charisma, have always been assets, but they plague The Weight of Sound. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t love Helix’s more light-and-airy vibe, but too many tracks are just too knuckleheaded here to make a splash, particularly the opening “unnecessary contractions” triptych (“Everblack,” “BludGod,” “Neversleep”), which seem like the band’s metalcore answer to Signs of the Swarm’s To Rid Myself of Truth. Meanwhile, other tracks seem to be wildly inconsistent and are true head-scratchers in terms of placement in the tracklist, featuring bluesy Southern vibes (“King Down”) or awkward shifts between heavy and ethereal (“Dystopia,” “Crossing Nails”). Each placement in the playlist at large feels shoehorned and abrupt, from balls-to-the-wall heavy to southern to ethereal, to confused. For the number of guest vocalists that appear throughout The Weight of Sound, Centorrino’s vocals make them difficult to discern with his smokier and denser presence. It’s unclear if this makes him a better performer or if the production value is just that putrid – or both.

To their credit, Crystal Lake hasn’t had to change up their sound since Kinoshita’s departure, and the balance between ethereal atmosphere and chuggy metalcore remains a formidable asset. However, scattershot songwriting and odd track placement doom effectiveness beyond a few sparse moments to break up the confused, knuckleheaded beatdowns. The Weight of Sound is everything you loved about The Sign eleven years ago, but with less identity and more distraction, chugging along for one song before brutalizing you with breakdowns the next. But most notable is Crystal Lake’s lack of direction: The Weight of Sound is all chugs and atmosphere with no clear purpose.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Century Media Records
Websites: crystallake-worldwide.com | facebook.com/crystallake777
Releases Worldwide: January 23rd, 2026

Crystal Lake is one of those bands that I lost track of. I adored 2015’s The Sign, its blend of hardcore attitude with a surgical metalcore attack and just enough djent and deathcore to make things interesting resulted in some of my all-time favorites in the style (“Prometheus,” “Matrix,” “Hades”). Yes, it’s knuckleheaded and boner-dragging brutality posturing, but for a jolt of breakdown-heavy sonic adrenaline, the Japanese quintet fit the bill. I lost track of them, with albums True North and Helix toning down the weight for an Erra-inspired atmospheric metalcore sound. It has been eight years since Helix entered the scene with a thud, so what can we expect from The Weight of Sound?

The Weight of Sound is the heft of change and consistency alike for Crystal Lake. A notable change is the departure of long-time vocalist Ryo Kinoshita, who released the debut for his solo project Knosis last year, and was replaced by John Robert Centorrino, former vocalist of The Last Ten Seconds of Life. The band acknowledges that Kinoshita’s shoes are nearly impossible to fill; to supplement, Centorrino is backed by an array of guest vocalists: David Simonich of Signs of the Swarm, Taylor Barber of Left to Suffer and Seven Hours After Violet, Myke Terry of Volumes and Fire from the Gods,1 Karl Schubach of Misery Signals and Jesse Leach of Killswitch Engage. Consistently, however, the instrumental approach is the same, bringing back the nu-metal-meets-djent-meets-hardcore chugs (whose absence made the last two outings toothless), as well as that trademark ethereal guitar layers. The result, however, falls woefully short compared to Crystal Lake’s landmark albums, as the knuckleheaded overtakes the thoughtful and the vocals become a monotonous muck.

The Weight of Sound (24-bit HD audio) by Crystal Lake

For positives, when Crystal Lake manages to balance the heavy and the atmospheric, tracks can truly soar. Yearning chord progressions, layers of melodies and sustained trills, and desperate vocals combine to add a nice dose of melancholy and fury, accented by the band’s signature guitar tone that balances djent weight with hardcore urgency. Even Centorrino’s cleans are a nice addition throughout these tracks, distant shouts or croons that recall Brett Gurewitz’s guest spot in Parkway Drive’s “Home is for the Heartless:”: tasteful and subtle. These tracks primarily populate the back half, a calm after the storm of metalcore pummeling, complete with a more somber mood (“The Undertow,” “The Weight of Sound,” “Sinners,” “Coma Wave”) that recalls more melodic hardcore-inflected metalcore acts like Counterparts or The Ghost Inside. The patience in the songwriting of these moments is also noteworthy, as movements feel nicely unhurried and appropriately contemplative.

Crystal Lake’s balance of the atmosphere and chug, as well as vocal charisma, have always been assets, but they plague The Weight of Sound. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t love Helix’s more light-and-airy vibe, but too many tracks are just too knuckleheaded here to make a splash, particularly the opening “unnecessary contractions” triptych (“Everblack,” “BludGod,” “Neversleep”), which seem like the band’s metalcore answer to Signs of the Swarm’s To Rid Myself of Truth. Meanwhile, other tracks seem to be wildly inconsistent and are true head-scratchers in terms of placement in the tracklist, featuring bluesy Southern vibes (“King Down”) or awkward shifts between heavy and ethereal (“Dystopia,” “Crossing Nails”). Each placement in the playlist at large feels shoehorned and abrupt, from balls-to-the-wall heavy to southern to ethereal, to confused. For the number of guest vocalists that appear throughout The Weight of Sound, Centorrino’s vocals make them difficult to discern with his smokier and denser presence. It’s unclear if this makes him a better performer or if the production value is just that putrid – or both.

To their credit, Crystal Lake hasn’t had to change up their sound since Kinoshita’s departure, and the balance between ethereal atmosphere and chuggy metalcore remains a formidable asset. However, scattershot songwriting and odd track placement doom effectiveness beyond a few sparse moments to break up the confused, knuckleheaded beatdowns. The Weight of Sound is everything you loved about The Sign eleven years ago, but with less identity and more distraction, chugging along for one song before brutalizing you with breakdowns the next. But most notable is Crystal Lake’s lack of direction: The Weight of Sound is all chugs and atmosphere with no clear purpose.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Century Media Records
Websites: crystallake-worldwide.com | facebook.com/crystallake777
Releases Worldwide: January 23rd, 2026

Crystal Lake is one of those bands that I lost track of. I adored 2015’s The Sign, its blend of hardcore attitude with a surgical metalcore attack and just enough djent and deathcore to make things interesting resulted in some of my all-time favorites in the style (“Prometheus,” “Matrix,” “Hades”). Yes, it’s knuckleheaded and boner-dragging brutality posturing, but for a jolt of breakdown-heavy sonic adrenaline, the Japanese quintet fit the bill. I lost track of them, with albums True North and Helix toning down the weight for an Erra-inspired atmospheric metalcore sound. It has been eight years since Helix entered the scene with a thud, so what can we expect from The Weight of Sound?

The Weight of Sound is the heft of change and consistency alike for Crystal Lake. A notable change is the departure of long-time vocalist Ryo Kinoshita, who released the debut for his solo project Knosis last year, and was replaced by John Robert Centorrino, former vocalist of The Last Ten Seconds of Life. The band acknowledges that Kinoshita’s shoes are nearly impossible to fill; to supplement, Centorrino is backed by an array of guest vocalists: David Simonich of Signs of the Swarm, Taylor Barber of Left to Suffer and Seven Hours After Violet, Myke Terry of Volumes and Fire from the Gods,1 Karl Schubach of Misery Signals and Jesse Leach of Killswitch Engage. Consistently, however, the instrumental approach is the same, bringing back the nu-metal-meets-djent-meets-hardcore chugs (whose absence made the last two outings toothless), as well as that trademark ethereal guitar layers. The result, however, falls woefully short compared to Crystal Lake’s landmark albums, as the knuckleheaded overtakes the thoughtful and the vocals become a monotonous muck.

The Weight of Sound (24-bit HD audio) by Crystal Lake

For positives, when Crystal Lake manages to balance the heavy and the atmospheric, tracks can truly soar. Yearning chord progressions, layers of melodies and sustained trills, and desperate vocals combine to add a nice dose of melancholy and fury, accented by the band’s signature guitar tone that balances djent weight with hardcore urgency. Even Centorrino’s cleans are a nice addition throughout these tracks, distant shouts or croons that recall Brett Gurewitz’s guest spot in Parkway Drive’s “Home is for the Heartless:”: tasteful and subtle. These tracks primarily populate the back half, a calm after the storm of metalcore pummeling, complete with a more somber mood (“The Undertow,” “The Weight of Sound,” “Sinners,” “Coma Wave”) that recalls more melodic hardcore-inflected metalcore acts like Counterparts or The Ghost Inside. The patience in the songwriting of these moments is also noteworthy, as movements feel nicely unhurried and appropriately contemplative.

Crystal Lake’s balance of the atmosphere and chug, as well as vocal charisma, have always been assets, but they plague The Weight of Sound. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t love Helix’s more light-and-airy vibe, but too many tracks are just too knuckleheaded here to make a splash, particularly the opening “unnecessary contractions” triptych (“Everblack,” “BludGod,” “Neversleep”), which seem like the band’s metalcore answer to Signs of the Swarm’s To Rid Myself of Truth. Meanwhile, other tracks seem to be wildly inconsistent and are true head-scratchers in terms of placement in the tracklist, featuring bluesy Southern vibes (“King Down”) or awkward shifts between heavy and ethereal (“Dystopia,” “Crossing Nails”). Each placement in the playlist at large feels shoehorned and abrupt, from balls-to-the-wall heavy to southern to ethereal, to confused. For the number of guest vocalists that appear throughout The Weight of Sound, Centorrino’s vocals make them difficult to discern with his smokier and denser presence. It’s unclear if this makes him a better performer or if the production value is just that putrid – or both.

To their credit, Crystal Lake hasn’t had to change up their sound since Kinoshita’s departure, and the balance between ethereal atmosphere and chuggy metalcore remains a formidable asset. However, scattershot songwriting and odd track placement doom effectiveness beyond a few sparse moments to break up the confused, knuckleheaded beatdowns. The Weight of Sound is everything you loved about The Sign eleven years ago, but with less identity and more distraction, chugging along for one song before brutalizing you with breakdowns the next. But most notable is Crystal Lake’s lack of direction: The Weight of Sound is all chugs and atmosphere with no clear purpose.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Century Media Records
Websites: crystallake-worldwide.com | facebook.com/crystallake777
Releases Worldwide: January 23rd, 2026

Crystal Lake is one of those bands that I lost track of. I adored 2015’s The Sign, its blend of hardcore attitude with a surgical metalcore attack and just enough djent and deathcore to make things interesting resulted in some of my all-time favorites in the style (“Prometheus,” “Matrix,” “Hades”). Yes, it’s knuckleheaded and boner-dragging brutality posturing, but for a jolt of breakdown-heavy sonic adrenaline, the Japanese quintet fit the bill. I lost track of them, with albums True North and Helix toning down the weight for an Erra-inspired atmospheric metalcore sound. It has been eight years since Helix entered the scene with a thud, so what can we expect from The Weight of Sound?

The Weight of Sound is the heft of change and consistency alike for Crystal Lake. A notable change is the departure of long-time vocalist Ryo Kinoshita, who released the debut for his solo project Knosis last year, and was replaced by John Robert Centorrino, former vocalist of The Last Ten Seconds of Life. The band acknowledges that Kinoshita’s shoes are nearly impossible to fill; to supplement, Centorrino is backed by an array of guest vocalists: David Simonich of Signs of the Swarm, Taylor Barber of Left to Suffer and Seven Hours After Violet, Myke Terry of Volumes and Fire from the Gods,1 Karl Schubach of Misery Signals and Jesse Leach of Killswitch Engage. Consistently, however, the instrumental approach is the same, bringing back the nu-metal-meets-djent-meets-hardcore chugs (whose absence made the last two outings toothless), as well as that trademark ethereal guitar layers. The result, however, falls woefully short compared to Crystal Lake’s landmark albums, as the knuckleheaded overtakes the thoughtful and the vocals become a monotonous muck.

The Weight of Sound (24-bit HD audio) by Crystal Lake

For positives, when Crystal Lake manages to balance the heavy and the atmospheric, tracks can truly soar. Yearning chord progressions, layers of melodies and sustained trills, and desperate vocals combine to add a nice dose of melancholy and fury, accented by the band’s signature guitar tone that balances djent weight with hardcore urgency. Even Centorrino’s cleans are a nice addition throughout these tracks, distant shouts or croons that recall Brett Gurewitz’s guest spot in Parkway Drive’s “Home is for the Heartless:”: tasteful and subtle. These tracks primarily populate the back half, a calm after the storm of metalcore pummeling, complete with a more somber mood (“The Undertow,” “The Weight of Sound,” “Sinners,” “Coma Wave”) that recalls more melodic hardcore-inflected metalcore acts like Counterparts or The Ghost Inside. The patience in the songwriting of these moments is also noteworthy, as movements feel nicely unhurried and appropriately contemplative.

Crystal Lake’s balance of the atmosphere and chug, as well as vocal charisma, have always been assets, but they plague The Weight of Sound. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t love Helix’s more light-and-airy vibe, but too many tracks are just too knuckleheaded here to make a splash, particularly the opening “unnecessary contractions” triptych (“Everblack,” “BludGod,” “Neversleep”), which seem like the band’s metalcore answer to Signs of the Swarm’s To Rid Myself of Truth. Meanwhile, other tracks seem to be wildly inconsistent and are true head-scratchers in terms of placement in the tracklist, featuring bluesy Southern vibes (“King Down”) or awkward shifts between heavy and ethereal (“Dystopia,” “Crossing Nails”). Each placement in the playlist at large feels shoehorned and abrupt, from balls-to-the-wall heavy to southern to ethereal, to confused. For the number of guest vocalists that appear throughout The Weight of Sound, Centorrino’s vocals make them difficult to discern with his smokier and denser presence. It’s unclear if this makes him a better performer or if the production value is just that putrid – or both.

To their credit, Crystal Lake hasn’t had to change up their sound since Kinoshita’s departure, and the balance between ethereal atmosphere and chuggy metalcore remains a formidable asset. However, scattershot songwriting and odd track placement doom effectiveness beyond a few sparse moments to break up the confused, knuckleheaded beatdowns. The Weight of Sound is everything you loved about The Sign eleven years ago, but with less identity and more distraction, chugging along for one song before brutalizing you with breakdowns the next. But most notable is Crystal Lake’s lack of direction: The Weight of Sound is all chugs and atmosphere with no clear purpose.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Century Media Records
Websites: crystallake-worldwide.com | facebook.com/crystallake777
Releases Worldwide: January 23rd, 2026

Crystal Lake is one of those bands that I lost track of. I adored 2015’s The Sign, its blend of hardcore attitude with a surgical metalcore attack and just enough djent and deathcore to make things interesting resulted in some of my all-time favorites in the style (“Prometheus,” “Matrix,” “Hades”). Yes, it’s knuckleheaded and boner-dragging brutality posturing, but for a jolt of breakdown-heavy sonic adrenaline, the Japanese quintet fit the bill. I lost track of them, with albums True North and Helix toning down the weight for an Erra-inspired atmospheric metalcore sound. It has been eight years since Helix entered the scene with a thud, so what can we expect from The Weight of Sound?

The Weight of Sound is the heft of change and consistency alike for Crystal Lake. A notable change is the departure of long-time vocalist Ryo Kinoshita, who released the debut for his solo project Knosis last year, and was replaced by John Robert Centorrino, former vocalist of The Last Ten Seconds of Life. The band acknowledges that Kinoshita’s shoes are nearly impossible to fill; to supplement, Centorrino is backed by an array of guest vocalists: David Simonich of Signs of the Swarm, Taylor Barber of Left to Suffer and Seven Hours After Violet, Myke Terry of Volumes and Fire from the Gods,1 Karl Schubach of Misery Signals and Jesse Leach of Killswitch Engage. Consistently, however, the instrumental approach is the same, bringing back the nu-metal-meets-djent-meets-hardcore chugs (whose absence made the last two outings toothless), as well as that trademark ethereal guitar layers. The result, however, falls woefully short compared to Crystal Lake’s landmark albums, as the knuckleheaded overtakes the thoughtful and the vocals become a monotonous muck.

The Weight of Sound (24-bit HD audio) by Crystal Lake

For positives, when Crystal Lake manages to balance the heavy and the atmospheric, tracks can truly soar. Yearning chord progressions, layers of melodies and sustained trills, and desperate vocals combine to add a nice dose of melancholy and fury, accented by the band’s signature guitar tone that balances djent weight with hardcore urgency. Even Centorrino’s cleans are a nice addition throughout these tracks, distant shouts or croons that recall Brett Gurewitz’s guest spot in Parkway Drive’s “Home is for the Heartless:”: tasteful and subtle. These tracks primarily populate the back half, a calm after the storm of metalcore pummeling, complete with a more somber mood (“The Undertow,” “The Weight of Sound,” “Sinners,” “Coma Wave”) that recalls more melodic hardcore-inflected metalcore acts like Counterparts or The Ghost Inside. The patience in the songwriting of these moments is also noteworthy, as movements feel nicely unhurried and appropriately contemplative.

Crystal Lake’s balance of the atmosphere and chug, as well as vocal charisma, have always been assets, but they plague The Weight of Sound. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t love Helix’s more light-and-airy vibe, but too many tracks are just too knuckleheaded here to make a splash, particularly the opening “unnecessary contractions” triptych (“Everblack,” “BludGod,” “Neversleep”), which seem like the band’s metalcore answer to Signs of the Swarm’s To Rid Myself of Truth. Meanwhile, other tracks seem to be wildly inconsistent and are true head-scratchers in terms of placement in the tracklist, featuring bluesy Southern vibes (“King Down”) or awkward shifts between heavy and ethereal (“Dystopia,” “Crossing Nails”). Each placement in the playlist at large feels shoehorned and abrupt, from balls-to-the-wall heavy to southern to ethereal, to confused. For the number of guest vocalists that appear throughout The Weight of Sound, Centorrino’s vocals make them difficult to discern with his smokier and denser presence. It’s unclear if this makes him a better performer or if the production value is just that putrid – or both.

To their credit, Crystal Lake hasn’t had to change up their sound since Kinoshita’s departure, and the balance between ethereal atmosphere and chuggy metalcore remains a formidable asset. However, scattershot songwriting and odd track placement doom effectiveness beyond a few sparse moments to break up the confused, knuckleheaded beatdowns. The Weight of Sound is everything you loved about The Sign eleven years ago, but with less identity and more distraction, chugging along for one song before brutalizing you with breakdowns the next. But most notable is Crystal Lake’s lack of direction: The Weight of Sound is all chugs and atmosphere with no clear purpose.

Rating: 2.0/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Century Media Records
Websites: crystallake-worldwide.com | facebook.com/crystallake777
Releases Worldwide: January 23rd, 2026

🔥 #LornaShore #CenturyMediaRecords

https://youtu.be/aMSlF1oo6Bw?si=A4mqlfCBCs2X3LWJ

🔥 #LornaShore #CenturyMediaRecords

https://youtu.be/aMSlF1oo6Bw?si=A4mqlfCBCs2X3LWJ

🔥 #LornaShore #CenturyMediaRecords

https://youtu.be/aMSlF1oo6Bw?si=A4mqlfCBCs2X3LWJ

🔥 #LornaShore #CenturyMediaRecords

https://youtu.be/aMSlF1oo6Bw?si=A4mqlfCBCs2X3LWJ

Blackened deathcore has truly run its course. This is simultaneously a hopeful sentiment, as it may encourage bands to explore new ideas, but also a sad one, because so few bands have actually created music that resembles the genre’s namesake. For every A Wake in Providence, there are twenty more bands flailing around with crappy production, boring synths, and chugga-wugga breakdowns that induce eye-rolls every time. Vegas-based Ov Sulfur sits somewhere between the two on their sophomore release, Endless. Featuring genuinely blackened elements in their sound, the band puts greater focus on melody and clean singing, bringing them much closer to… dare I say, blackened metalcore? If that genre makes you wretch on sight, fair. For the curious, I would say you will be rewarded, but approach with caution. Everybody else, go read a different review.

On Endless, Ov Sulfur refines the sound from their debut, which I genuinely could not stand (No offense, Thus Spoke). It says a lot that I found myself frequently enjoying the band’s take on blackened deathcore. Songs are generally tight, if formulaic, but they focus much more on riffs, and there is a surprising amount of blackened death metal in there. “Seed” features legit black metal riffing that leads into chainsaw-worship blackened death tremolo alongside brutal double-bass kicks. These elements are a mainstay across the album, which kept me going throughout Endless. Before you get too excited, the chorus comes in strong on “Seed,” and while Ricky Hoover’s cleans are perfectly servicable, this is just the tip of the iceberg on Endless. Tracks like “Seed,” “Forlorn,” and “Vast Eternal” are solid, but they all follow a tired formula. The backing riff on the chorus of “Seed” and “Forlorn” sounds almost identical, and every song is brought to a standstill by downright sleepy breakdowns. Even the album intro track is the comically overused “here is a breakdown, but it keeps getting slower,” that feels like a staple on every deathcore release these days.

Endless (24-bit HD audio) by Ov Sulfur

Endless isn’t without its redeeming qualities. Ricky Hoover’s vocals are genuinely great across the album. His cleans are surprisingly decent, even if a little “butt-rock” in his own words. His harsh vocals are clear and well-enunciated, making for surprisingly catchy moments even at the heaviest of times. “Vast Eternal” shows his speed, and his highs are crisp, avoiding the screeching heights that are devoid of technique. This is clearly a veteran vocalist doing his thing. The rest of the band keeps pace, and even more surprisingly for a deathcore band, there are tons of riffs on Endless. “Forlorn” starts with a sweeping, tapping intro and goes right into a groovy, blackened death slammer. Guitarists Chase Wilson and Christian Becker put the work in, and the album is filled with a delightful amount of axe heroics. There are even honest-to-goodness solos on this thing. The drums are a highlight too, and the album is full of double-bass brutality. Leviathvn (ooft) goes wild on the kit, and this band has no lack of passion, as mentioned in our previous review.

Time for the corpse-paint-wearing elephant in the room. Endless features, not one, but two ballads. First, halfway through the album with “Wither” and then the final track “Endless//Loveless”. The former is a heartfelt dirge for Hoover’s lost grandparents, with an adorable intro and outro soundbite from them that genuinely elevates the track. The track is a solid, if uninspired ballad that features decent cleans from Hoover and bassist Josh Bearden that may genuinely induce tears for those with close relations to lost loved ones. “Endless//Loveless” is the opposite. A hangnail of a track that didn’t even need to end up on the album, killing the finale after a string of Endless’ best tracks (”Bleak,” “Dread,” and “A World Away”) and featuring some truly cliché lyrics like “loving you is like holding onto water.” Lastly, the production is crushed which is disappointing coming from a major lablel. Synths drown out riffs frequently, and at this point, it seems to be a genre standard.

With Ov Sulfur’s sophomore album, they come back tighter, more focused, and better for it. Despite this, no amount of struggling will free them of the mire that is blackened deathcore. The strict adherence to genre trappings hangs like an albatross around the neck of a band that clearly wants to be making more emotionally driven, melodic music. With Endless, you get a refined, tightly played record that exemplifies the better parts of the genre, but it is so worn out that you may find yourself moving on before you get past the tired, cliche intro. Ov Sulfur have crafted an infinitely better album in Endless, but it is made for the adherents of the genre, and little else.

Rating: Mixed
DR: 4 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Century Media
Websites: facebook.com/ovsulfur | instagram.com/ovsulfur
Releases Worldwide: January 16th, 2026

🔥 The final chapter of the trilogy.
De Doden Hebben Het Goed III is Wiegedood at their most relentless raw Belgian black metal driven by grief, rage, and total conviction.
⚔️ No compromise. No mercy.
💿 Century Media Records
🖤 https://www.centurymedia.com/artist/wiegedood
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#altgirl #metalgirl #metalhead #metalmerch #bandmerch #atmodel #metalheads #oktoberpromo #oktoberpromotion #metalvinyl #altmodels #vinylcollection #vinylcollector #vinyllovers #centurymediarecords

🔥 The final chapter of the trilogy.
De Doden Hebben Het Goed III is Wiegedood at their most relentless raw Belgian black metal driven by grief, rage, and total conviction.
⚔️ No compromise. No mercy.
💿 Century Media Records
🖤 https://www.centurymedia.com/artist/wiegedood
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#altgirl #metalgirl #metalhead #metalmerch #bandmerch #atmodel #metalheads #oktoberpromo #oktoberpromotion #metalvinyl #altmodels #vinylcollection #vinylcollector #vinyllovers #centurymediarecords

🔥 The final chapter of the trilogy.
De Doden Hebben Het Goed III is Wiegedood at their most relentless raw Belgian black metal driven by grief, rage, and total conviction.
⚔️ No compromise. No mercy.
💿 Century Media Records
🖤 https://www.centurymedia.com/artist/wiegedood
.
.
.
#altgirl #metalgirl #metalhead #metalmerch #bandmerch #atmodel #metalheads #oktoberpromo #oktoberpromotion #metalvinyl #altmodels #vinylcollection #vinylcollector #vinyllovers #centurymediarecords

🔥 The final chapter of the trilogy.
De Doden Hebben Het Goed III is Wiegedood at their most relentless raw Belgian black metal driven by grief, rage, and total conviction.
⚔️ No compromise. No mercy.
💿 Century Media Records
🖤 https://www.centurymedia.com/artist/wiegedood
.
.
.
#altgirl #metalgirl #metalhead #metalmerch #bandmerch #atmodel #metalheads #oktoberpromo #oktoberpromotion #metalvinyl #altmodels #vinylcollection #vinylcollector #vinyllovers #centurymediarecords

Lorna Shore – I Feel The Everblack Festering Within Me [Things You Might Have Missed 2025]

By Grymm

When we last heard from New Jersey’s Lorna Shore, they followed up the wave of attention they received during the pandemic with their song “Into the Hellfire,” showcasing not only their musical chops, but also the golden throat (and bangs) of one Will Ramos, with Pain Remains in 2022. Not only did the album further capitalize on their songwriting abilities and Ramos’ insane vocal talents, but it opened up a slew of headlining tours, closing festival slots, and untold amounts of fans. It’s amazing what can happen when you nonchalantly pour yourself into your music? So I bet you’re wondering what the follow-up, the wordly I Feel the Everblack Festering Within Me, could bring to the proceedings? What would differ here from the passion, honesty, and heart that Lorna Shore would lay bare on Pain Remains?

It turns out, just even more honesty and passion, but at least there are a few wrinkles thrown in for good measure. Sure, the songs are longer, and the orchestral openings to most of the songs on here take their sweet-ass time to set up, but once they do, the music once again blisters and burns with raging intensity. “Oblivion” and “Lionheart” will definitely be pit favorites, with Austin Archey proving, once again, to be an absolute beast behind the kit, blasting and grinding away while guitarists Andrew O’Connor and Adam DeMicco riff and shred (respectively) away. With DeMicco, his leads continue to improve on each release, and on here, he takes flight on numerous occasions.

Once again, though, it’s Ramos who steals the spotlight. His passionate screams, not to mention the various times he switches them up at the drop of a hat, continue to impress and amaze. Whether it’s the wild guttural-scream-singing during the chorus of “Death Can Take Me,” or his heartfelt purging on both “Glenwood”1 and “Forevermore,”2 Ramos’ ability to veer between sounding maniacally animalistic, wailing in an all-too-human fashion, and everywhere within those parameters instantaneously floors me still.

I’m sure several of you have backed out of reading once you saw the topic of today’s article, and that’s fine. There are several pages of reviews and whatnot to tickle your fancy, and I respect that. However, for those of you who continue to be impressed by one of modern deathcore’s shining bright lights, this is a welcome continuation of a band that’s still not hit their climax yet. Big things are still ahead for these guys, and I Feel the Everblack Festering Within Me is a great glimpse of what’s to come.

Tracks to Check Out: “Oblivion,” “Lionheart,” “Unbreakable,” “Glenwood,” “Death Can Take Me,” “Forevermore”

#2025 #americanMetal #centuryMediaRecords #deathcore #iFeelTheEverblackFesteringWithinMe #lornaShore #thingsYouMightHaveMissed2025

Lorna Shore – I Feel The Everblack Festering Within Me [Things You Might Have Missed 2025]

By Grymm

When we last heard from New Jersey’s Lorna Shore, they followed up the wave of attention they received during the pandemic with their song “Into the Hellfire,” showcasing not only their musical chops, but also the golden throat (and bangs) of one Will Ramos, with Pain Remains in 2022. Not only did the album further capitalize on their songwriting abilities and Ramos’ insane vocal talents, but it opened up a slew of headlining tours, closing festival slots, and untold amounts of fans. It’s amazing what can happen when you nonchalantly pour yourself into your music? So I bet you’re wondering what the follow-up, the wordly I Feel the Everblack Festering Within Me, could bring to the proceedings? What would differ here from the passion, honesty, and heart that Lorna Shore would lay bare on Pain Remains?

It turns out, just even more honesty and passion, but at least there are a few wrinkles thrown in for good measure. Sure, the songs are longer, and the orchestral openings to most of the songs on here take their sweet-ass time to set up, but once they do, the music once again blisters and burns with raging intensity. “Oblivion” and “Lionheart” will definitely be pit favorites, with Austin Archey proving, once again, to be an absolute beast behind the kit, blasting and grinding away while guitarists Andrew O’Connor and Adam DeMicco riff and shred (respectively) away. With DeMicco, his leads continue to improve on each release, and on here, he takes flight on numerous occasions.

Once again, though, it’s Ramos who steals the spotlight. His passionate screams, not to mention the various times he switches them up at the drop of a hat, continue to impress and amaze. Whether it’s the wild guttural-scream-singing during the chorus of “Death Can Take Me,” or his heartfelt purging on both “Glenwood”1 and “Forevermore,”2 Ramos’ ability to veer between sounding maniacally animalistic, wailing in an all-too-human fashion, and everywhere within those parameters instantaneously floors me still.

I’m sure several of you have backed out of reading once you saw the topic of today’s article, and that’s fine. There are several pages of reviews and whatnot to tickle your fancy, and I respect that. However, for those of you who continue to be impressed by one of modern deathcore’s shining bright lights, this is a welcome continuation of a band that’s still not hit their climax yet. Big things are still ahead for these guys, and I Feel the Everblack Festering Within Me is a great glimpse of what’s to come.

Tracks to Check Out: “Oblivion,” “Lionheart,” “Unbreakable,” “Glenwood,” “Death Can Take Me,” “Forevermore”

#2025 #americanMetal #centuryMediaRecords #deathcore #iFeelTheEverblackFesteringWithinMe #lornaShore #thingsYouMightHaveMissed2025

Omnium Gatherum – May the Bridges We Burn Light the Way Review

By Steel Druhm

Finland’s Omnium Gatherum have tinkered with their sound regularly over their career, ranging from rough Gothenburg-infected melodeath, to more melancholic and gloomy environs on career high points like New World Shadows and Beyond, and on to a more direct and modern style on The Burning Red. 2021s Origin further simplified and smoothed out their sound into what could be described as melodeath-lite, and while some loved the new approach, it left me flat and felt forced and somewhat soulless. On 10th album, May the Bridges We Burn Light the Way, they change colors again, opting for a course correction to hit the sweet spot between the more grandiose sounds heard on New World Shadows and the uber-polished, rock-oriented moments of Origin. The core OG sound is still in play with the usual bells and whistles, but this time it’s more lively and aggressive with more consistently engaging writing. The same cannot be said for that album art, but we don’t all get everything we want all the time.

After a mood-setting title track intro piece, things get moving on “My Pain,” which sounds enough like the New World Shadows era to get my attention and respect. The combination of the floral guitars and keyboards works as it should, and Jukka Pelkonen’s death vocals are offset well by Markus Vanhala’s clean singing. It’s an earwormy mix that sticks in the brain fast and hard, and it’s hard to resist the rousing melodeath churn with the expected gloss of Finnish gloom lurking around the edges. Much of the energy and momentum generated here carries over into “Last Hero,” which is fast, urgent, and hungry and delivers a simple but effective chorus. They aren’t reinventing the OG sound here so much as borrowing from various older eras. This one could have been on The Redshift or New World and fit in just fine. “The Darkest City” is the longest track, taking time to dabble in a variety of moods and textures, and once again, it reminds of the New World era but with touches of Origin’s slick minimalism. At almost 7 minutes, it manages to hold your attention and delivers some gorgeous guitar work along the way, replete with classic Finnish sadboi thrills.

The writing remains sharp as May the Bridges We Burn rolls on, and the heaviness I missed last time is back in spades. “Walking Ghost Phase” is a simple but rowdy cut with bite and pop, and “Ignite the Flame” is thrashy and forceful, with a memorable chorus. No tracks feel like filler with most cuts offering a good dose of heft and anger, even when it’s wrapped in melodeath polish and prettiness. The whole package runs just over 40 minutes with only 7 proper tracks, an intro, and outro, so there’s not a lot of meat on the bone, but what’s there is better than what we got last time. The production by Jens Borgen and Soilwork / The Night Flight Orchestra frontman Björn Strid is fine for what OG do; bright and modern with ample heft on the guitars, and never allowing the keywords to take over the show or become overweening.

Markus Vanhala delivers MOAR riffs and classically Finnish harmonies than any other three axe meisters could, girding every track with heavy leads and gorgeous and moody flourishes. It’s his playing and how he combines with the keyboards from Aapo Koivisto that propel the OG sound and keep things moving and grooving. Much of what could be considered hooks flow from what they do. Jukka’s consistent death roars and snarls as the same as always, competent, potent, but generally limited. That doesn’t stop the band from managing to write a collection of fairly memorable numbers, though, ranging from good to occasionally very good.

I doubt Ominium Gatherum will ever release another New World Shadows or Beyond, but at least May the Bridges We Burn Light the Way allays my fears that they were trending into a soft melodeath doom spiral. This is an album full of catchy, easily digestible metal with enough balls, though it can end up feeling a bit insubstantial and overly sugar-coated at certain points. There are worse things to endure, though, and fans should be pleased. On with the Omnium.

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: NA | Format Reviewed: Fucking STREAM!!
Label: Century Media
Websites: omniumgatherum.bandcamp.com/album | facebook.com/omniumgatherumband | instagram.com/omniumgatherumofficial
Releases Worldwide: November 7th, 2025

#2025 #30 #CenturyMediaRecords #DeathMetal #FinnishMetal #MayTheBridgesWeBurnLightTheWay #MelodicDeathMetal #Nov25 #OmniumGatherum #Review #Reviews

Coroner – Dissonance Theory Review

By Dolphin Whisperer

Whether it’s the mystifying hourglass of parenthood or a sudden collision of earth to brain, time erodes both in steady, unnoticeable stutters and blink-speed slides.1 I’m sure Coroner never quite planned to sit this long on new material, with its inception a decade ago sliding to present today in maturity. But after thirty-plus years, there’s little rush in releasing anything for the sake of the release itself. In thoughtful construction, a composed comeback will warrant discussion upon emergence and later on down the road. And with Dissonance Theory, both a foot in a deep thrash history and desire to explore a progressive sound, Coroner seeks to prove that a vital record can still exist under their storied name.

While the aged gap between albums presents as a hurdle to momentum, Coroner hasn’t been dormant leading up to Dissonance Theory, a healthy festival and gig routine since 2010 stoking their creative flame. And cornerstone guitarist Tommy Baron has remained engaged in studio management while weaving through extra-Coroner band activities over the years, like his brief stint with fellow thrash legends Kreator in the late ’90s2 or his more modern chug-a-lug with the alternative/industrial-laced 69 Chambers. Along this timeline, then, it makes sense that Dissonance Theory presents not as a widening of the take-it-or-leave-it Grin but as an exploration of how history has shaped their own interpretation of their sound. Lower-tuned tap ‘n’ go strides follow the splinter that spiraled dark groove machines like Nevermore and Morgana Lefay (“Consequence,” “Symmetry,” “Renewal”). Heavier anthemic numbers mirror the booming stadium feel of modern Kreator (“Sacrificial Lamb”), even verging on Lamb of God thrash-thuggery at its most simple (“Crisium Bound”). Many faces have worn Coroner over the years, but Coroner wearing them back reveals new wrinkles.

Yet Dissonance Theory hits what makes modern Coroner a force when layered guitar textures and screaming solos have space to warp and twist about dips into classic thrash breaks and screaming solos. Baron has always been an expressive guitarist. But in the long road since the Celtic Frosted days of RIP, he’s found a way both to whip the frenetic scramble of a pit-ready bridge into heroic fretboard gymnastics (“Consequence,” “Symmetry”) and drop jaws with melodic, bluesy tone-wailing (“Transparent Eye”). Likewise, jangling chords find resonant space and careful modulation in pocketed drum rhythms and steady, growling bass, showcasing the careful ear for harmony that Coroner has always endorsed (“The Law,” “Transparent Eye”). And though a couple tracks may use their space less effectively than others, finding a slight meandering in their joy of sound, Dissonance Theory breezes by in a veteran flex of songwriting maturity.

However, I take some issue with the ways in which the Bogren production job bolsters Coroner into the modern day. Again, part of what makes Coroner, well, Coroner is a vibrant guitar identity that twangs and twirls and cuts with buttery precision. And while a nasally compression still helps to define the chatter of Dissonance Theory’s most thrashing moments (“Consequence,” “Symmetry”), more weight finds a home in a thick and pulverizing rhythm tone. Ron Royce’s thick-stringed assault, naturally, finds a happy home with the lean into low-end emboldening, and that partnering with the muddier rhythm tone finds a unison richness on certain brooding runs (“Sacrificial Lamb” through “Symmetry”). Furthermore, new drummer Diego Rapacchietti finds a powerful march and kick clamor that creates a playful propulsion against bright, palm-muted runs (“Sacrificial Lamb,” “The Law”). Against the flat rhythm guitar characterization, alas, all of these production accents don’t always add up to song sections that feel distinct over the whole of the album.

Coroner’s influence continues to ripple through thrashy and deathly forms alike despite the current day being far removed from their initial declarations. But more importantly, Dissonance Theory proves that in 2025, Coroner has been paying attention to their progeny in order to shape a new face for the flock of hopefuls to follow. I don’t think Dissonance Theory carves quite as deep a notch as the Swiss stalwarts had hoped, though in its collective wisdom, it can be hard to put down. As first steps in a new direction, Dissonance Theory fills me with hope that a Coroner second coming will bear fruit at least once more with a greater level of determination.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Century Media Records | Bandcamp
Websites: coronerofficial.com | coronerofficial.bandcamp.com
Releases Worldwide: October 17th, 2025

#2025 #35 #CenturyMediaRecords #Coroner #DissonanceTheory #Kreator #LambOfGod #MorganaLefay #Nevermore #Oct25 #ProgressiveMetal #ProgressiveThrashMetal #Review #Reviews #SwissMetal #TechnicalThrashMetal #ThrashMetal

Orbit Culture – Death Above Life Review

By Dear Hollow

Orbit Culture is a stellar band, so 2023’s Descent should have been an AOTY contender. An all-killer, no-filler blend of melodeath and thrash with a dark industrial edge sounds like a hodge-podge in the worst ways, but the Swedes have made it their brand with a fluidity that has defined them from the beginning. In this way, the quartet showed their songwriting prowess, with tracks like “Black Mountain” and “The Aisle of Fire” leading the charge in the death/thrash riffage that we’ve all come to know and love. But while the claustrophobic mix provided 2020’s Nija a bloodthirsty darkness, it made Descent impenetrable in its compressed muck – sinking it from formidable to forgettable. It was too much doing too much, with no breathing room to do it. Death Above Life offers a bit of a different feel, although it is undeniably Orbit Culture.

Don’t get me wrong, Death Above Life is claustrophobic and overloud, but its pitch-black overflow feels channeled into a better outlet. At its core a melodeath band with a healthy love for thrash, Orbit Culture has long incorporated a slough of djent and metalcore influences, which Death Above Life utilizes for choppy start-stop riffs and climactic breakdowns – emphasized by Humanity’s Last Breath multi-instrumentalist Buster Odeholm on mixing. While it sounds like a sellout, they provide reprieve for a band amplified to the max with ideas. Alongside this, we get our usual range of thrashy early-Metallica numbers to punishing pitch-black death metal cuts. There is more range in softer ballads and punishing ragers, and it is a production improvement over Descent, but Karlsson’s overloud and often awkward clean vocals are suddenly a nagging issue.

As expected, the traditional thrash vibe is alive and well with Orbit Culture – even the more accessible cuts will rip you a new one. Mastermind vocalist/guitarist Niklas Karlsson continues to shift his Hetfield-inspired cleans more front and center, which adds a bit of gravelly (albeit imperfect) familiarity amid the breakneck riffs. Mostly, it’s easy to overlook, as speedy tempos and intense brutality grace the more traditional verse-chorus formats, in an early Soilwork-esque homage. This portion of Orbit Culture’s sound focuses on the range of emotion, as fury, melancholy, pride, and desperation collide in the mix of chord progressions, vocal varieties, and tasteful synth – highlighting their admiration for film composers Hans Zimmer and Howard Shore. Offer soaring chorus punctuated by djenty start-stop riffs (“Inferna,” “The Tales of War”), while more prominent clean vocals dominate thrashier and more subdued tracks alike (“Into the Waves,” “The Path I Walk”). There’s more metalcore influences as breakdowns add much-needed breathing room (“Inside the Waves,” “Hydra”) and more melodic fretboard wizardry and galloping riffs recall As I Lay Dying’s earlier material (“Nerve,” “The Storm”).1

The deathened intensity that pervades Death Above Life showcases the Orbit Culture’s newly capitalized fury. While many of the heavier tracks do feature clean vocals (“Hydra,” “Neural Collapse”), they are largely an afterthought to the beatdown – and are better for it. Ominous ambient textures and cinematic scope make the brutality all the more intense, with climactic solos and bloodthirsty roars focusing on establishing this misanthropy. The best tracks here are “Bloodhound” and “Death Above Life,” due to their absence of clean vocals and their cutthroat quality amplified by chunky Slipknot-esque rhythms, blazing tempos, and Karlsson’s most vicious performances to date. They put Karlsson’s clean vocals elsewhere to shame, existing as too blaring in the mix and damaging certain tracks with their jarring inclusions, worsened by protracted song-lengths and grating repetition (“Inside the Waves,” “Nerve,” “Neural Collapse,” “The Path I Walk”).

Death Above Life sounds better than Descent, but like any good game of Whack-a-Mole, the stuffy production value is quelled only for Karlsson’s overloud cleans to pop up as an issue, amplified by the album’s fifty-three-minute runtime. The riffs are first-rate, the harsh vocals are vicious, and the songwriting encompasses a range of emotion that reflects Orbit Culture’s respect for film composers – but the increasingly upfront vocal attack wears thin very quickly. It’s a solid release from a band who has earned their reputation as one of extreme metal’s best in a distinct blend of nostalgic thrash and modern melodeath – I just know they could do so much better.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: N/A | Format Reviewed: STREAM
Label: Century Media Records
Websites: orbitculture.bandcamp.com | orbitculture.com | facebook.com/OrbitCulture
Releases Worldwide: October 3rd, 2025

#25 #2025 #AsILayDying #CenturyMediaRecords #DeathAboveLife #DeathMetal #HansZimmer #HowardShore #HumanitySLastBreath #Industrial #MelodicDeathMetal #Metallica #Oct25 #OrbitCulture #Review #Reviews #Slipknot #Soilwork #SwedishMetal #ThrashMetal

🐐Throwback to:
#Hellripper at 📍 #dynamometalfest
🤘 #doomstarbookings
💿 #centurymediarecords
🗓️ 17/8/2025
🎥 Sethpicturesmusic - Seth Abrikoos
(Captured for DMF, mediateam)

#metal #band #concertphotography #concertphotographer #musicphotography #musicphotographer #photography #tourphotographer

🤘✌️

🐐Throwback to:
#Hellripper at 📍 #dynamometalfest
🤘 #doomstarbookings
💿 #centurymediarecords
🗓️ 17/8/2025
🎥 Sethpicturesmusic - Seth Abrikoos
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#metal #band #concertphotography #concertphotographer #musicphotography #musicphotographer #photography #tourphotographer

🤘✌️

🐐Throwback to:
#Hellripper at 📍 #dynamometalfest
🤘 #doomstarbookings
💿 #centurymediarecords
🗓️ 17/8/2025
🎥 Sethpicturesmusic - Seth Abrikoos
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#metal #band #concertphotography #concertphotographer #musicphotography #musicphotographer #photography #tourphotographer

🤘✌️

🐐Throwback to:
#Hellripper at 📍 #dynamometalfest
🤘 #doomstarbookings
💿 #centurymediarecords
🗓️ 17/8/2025
🎥 Sethpicturesmusic - Seth Abrikoos
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#metal #band #concertphotography #concertphotographer #musicphotography #musicphotographer #photography #tourphotographer

🤘✌️

🐐Throwback to:
#Hellripper at 📍 #dynamometalfest
🤘 #doomstarbookings
💿 #centurymediarecords
🗓️ 17/8/2025
🎥 Sethpicturesmusic - Seth Abrikoos
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#metal #band #concertphotography #concertphotographer #musicphotography #musicphotographer #photography #tourphotographer

🤘✌️

🐐Throwback to:
#Hellripper at 📍 #dynamometalfest
🤘 #doomstarbookings
💿 #centurymediarecords
🗓️ 17/8/2025
🎥 Sethpicturesmusic - Seth Abrikoos
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#metal #band #concertphotography #concertphotographer #musicphotography #musicphotographer #photography #tourphotographer

🤘✌️

🐐Throwback to:
#Hellripper at 📍 #dynamometalfest
🤘 #doomstarbookings
💿 #centurymediarecords
🗓️ 17/8/2025
🎥 Sethpicturesmusic - Seth Abrikoos
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#metal #band #concertphotography #concertphotographer #musicphotography #musicphotographer #photography #tourphotographer

🤘✌️

🐐Throwback to:
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🐐Throwback to:
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Signs of the Swarm – To Rid Myself of Truth Review

By Dear Hollow

I think deathcore’s lack of respect in metal circles is due to its subservience to trends. Riding waves of what’s considered too brutal or not, the recent MySpace-style revival and the inevitable shadow of Will Ramos-fronted Lorna Shore have collided to emphasize relentless brutality and utter sonic depravity. Signs of the Swarm has been a victim of this more than most, riding the coattails of the trends rather than setting them, and while offering some of the most intense deathcore offerings within the realm of the “low and slow” template, there’s been nothing to convince naysayers to give their albums a listen. Will To Rid Myself of Truth be the tipping point?

In many ways, To Rid Myself of Truth is the part 2 of predecessor Amongst the Low & the Empty, but the Pittsburgh quartet has never quite hammered down what their trademark approach to deathcore is. From the slammy gurgles of CJ McCreery’s troubled tenure in Senseless Order and The Disfigurement of Existence, to the husky roars of David Simonich in his contributions to discography highlights Vital Deprivation and Absolvere, Signs of the Swarm has latched onto Low & Empty’s template in being as brutally downtuned and chuggily cutthroat as possible. To Rid Myself of Truth continues the toe-dipping into djent and industrial for maximum heft and devastation, and while it’s better than its predecessor, it still begs the question why you should go out of your way to rid yourself of truth.

To Signs of the Swarm’s credit, To Rid Myself of Truth is a little more than the one-trick pony fucking shit up in the pit the way its predecessor was. Techier flourishes, rabid blastbeats, and rhythmic warbling offer reprieves in the muck, while better songwriting doesn’t end every track with ten-ton demonic breakdowns. Pinch harmonics add a dimension of madness to the already insane brutality (“Natural Selection,” “Iron Sacrament”) and jerky djent rhythms add a bit of variety (“Scars Upon Scars”), while a neat lil’ groove spices things up (“HELLMUSTFEARME,” “Chariot”). Once again, Simonich delivers an absolutely monstrous performance, his horrifying vocals an easy highlight amid low and empty chuggery, including some tasteful grunge-influenced cleans atop eerie industrial-influenced plucking and atmospheric tremolo picking (“Forcing to Forget”). Guest vocalists show up in tasteful areas, including the man, the myth, the Lorna-man Will Ramos (“Clouded Retinas”), Whitechapel’s Phil Bozeman (“Iron Sacrament”), 156/Silence’s Jack Murray, and Prison’s Johnny Crowder (“Fear & Judgement”), providing a bit of reprieve to Simonich’s all-consuming roar. To Rid Myself of Truth can feel like a honed version of Amongst the Low & Empty, utilizing the same tools but with tighter performances.

To Rid Myself of Truth has all the ingredients to a solid album – as Signs of the Swarm has always possessed – but the execution of excessive brutality and stuffy production makes it into a messed up deathcore duck-cake.1 While it felt like Amongst the Low & Empty had almost infinite breadth in its production and mixing, To Rid Myself of Truth is majorly compressed and condensed, perhaps lending itself to the tight galloping of Absolvere. But we can’t have our duck cake and eat it too, because the mix is absolutely suffocating trying to remedy the two approaches. As such, like you insulted Signs of the Swarm’s mother, you’ll be hit with so many concussions in sheer amount of breakdowns and venomous attacks, it’ll be hard to keep track (“HELLMUSTFEARME,” “Chariot,” “Sarkazein” all come to mind). Many of these tracks likewise follow a similar pattern, opening up with the title of the song roared, followed by bone-crushing breakdowns, too often adhering to the “To the Hellfire” formula of “yuuuuuuge” concussive chugs and Simonich sounding as animalistic and demonic as possible.

To Rid Myself of Truth is catharsis for Signs of the Swarm,2 a streamlined potpourri of no-frills deathcore that continually beats you over the head with “ze brootalz.” If this is your bread and butter, then feel free to rid yourself of truth – this album was written for you. Signs of the Swarm, as in the case with Amongst the Low & Empty, constantly impresses with its trendiness and novelty: a relentless breed of brutality with a consistently impressive vocal performance. However, once the novelty wears off, you’re left with brickwalled production and copied-and-pasted brutality. To Rid Myself of Truth? More like To Rid Myself of Tooth.3

Rating: 1.5/5.0
DR: 3 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Century Media Records
Websites: signsoftheswarm.bandcamp.com | signsoftheswarm.com | facebook.com/signsoftheswarm
Releases Worldwide: August 22nd, 2025

#15 #156Silence #2025 #AmericanMetal #Aug25 #CenturyMediaRecords #Deathcore #Djent #LornaShore #Prison #Review #Reviews #SignsOfTheSwarm #ToRidMyselfOfTruth #Whitechapel

Signs of the Swarm – To Rid Myself of Truth Review

By Dear Hollow

I think deathcore’s lack of respect in metal circles is due to its subservience to trends. Riding waves of what’s considered too brutal or not, the recent MySpace-style revival and the inevitable shadow of Will Ramos-fronted Lorna Shore have collided to emphasize relentless brutality and utter sonic depravity. Signs of the Swarm has been a victim of this more than most, riding the coattails of the trends rather than setting them, and while offering some of the most intense deathcore offerings within the realm of the “low and slow” template, there’s been nothing to convince naysayers to give their albums a listen. Will To Rid Myself of Truth be the tipping point?

In many ways, To Rid Myself of Truth is the part 2 of predecessor Amongst the Low & the Empty, but the Pittsburgh quartet has never quite hammered down what their trademark approach to deathcore is. From the slammy gurgles of CJ McCreery’s troubled tenure in Senseless Order and The Disfigurement of Existence, to the husky roars of David Simonich in his contributions to discography highlights Vital Deprivation and Absolvere, Signs of the Swarm has latched onto Low & Empty’s template in being as brutally downtuned and chuggily cutthroat as possible. To Rid Myself of Truth continues the toe-dipping into djent and industrial for maximum heft and devastation, and while it’s better than its predecessor, it still begs the question why you should go out of your way to rid yourself of truth.

To Signs of the Swarm’s credit, To Rid Myself of Truth is a little more than the one-trick pony fucking shit up in the pit the way its predecessor was. Techier flourishes, rabid blastbeats, and rhythmic warbling offer reprieves in the muck, while better songwriting doesn’t end every track with ten-ton demonic breakdowns. Pinch harmonics add a dimension of madness to the already insane brutality (“Natural Selection,” “Iron Sacrament”) and jerky djent rhythms add a bit of variety (“Scars Upon Scars”), while a neat lil’ groove spices things up (“HELLMUSTFEARME,” “Chariot”). Once again, Simonich delivers an absolutely monstrous performance, his horrifying vocals an easy highlight amid low and empty chuggery, including some tasteful grunge-influenced cleans atop eerie industrial-influenced plucking and atmospheric tremolo picking (“Forcing to Forget”). Guest vocalists show up in tasteful areas, including the man, the myth, the Lorna-man Will Ramos (“Clouded Retinas”), Whitechapel’s Phil Bozeman (“Iron Sacrament”), 156/Silence’s Jack Murray, and Prison’s Johnny Crowder (“Fear & Judgement”), providing a bit of reprieve to Simonich’s all-consuming roar. To Rid Myself of Truth can feel like a honed version of Amongst the Low & Empty, utilizing the same tools but with tighter performances.

To Rid Myself of Truth has all the ingredients to a solid album – as Signs of the Swarm has always possessed – but the execution of excessive brutality and stuffy production makes it into a messed up deathcore duck-cake.1 While it felt like Amongst the Low & Empty had almost infinite breadth in its production and mixing, To Rid Myself of Truth is majorly compressed and condensed, perhaps lending itself to the tight galloping of Absolvere. But we can’t have our duck cake and eat it too, because the mix is absolutely suffocating trying to remedy the two approaches. As such, like you insulted Signs of the Swarm’s mother, you’ll be hit with so many concussions in sheer amount of breakdowns and venomous attacks, it’ll be hard to keep track (“HELLMUSTFEARME,” “Chariot,” “Sarkazein” all come to mind). Many of these tracks likewise follow a similar pattern, opening up with the title of the song roared, followed by bone-crushing breakdowns, too often adhering to the “To the Hellfire” formula of “yuuuuuuge” concussive chugs and Simonich sounding as animalistic and demonic as possible.

To Rid Myself of Truth is catharsis for Signs of the Swarm,2 a streamlined potpourri of no-frills deathcore that continually beats you over the head with “ze brootalz.” If this is your bread and butter, then feel free to rid yourself of truth – this album was written for you. Signs of the Swarm, as in the case with Amongst the Low & Empty, constantly impresses with its trendiness and novelty: a relentless breed of brutality with a consistently impressive vocal performance. However, once the novelty wears off, you’re left with brickwalled production and copied-and-pasted brutality. To Rid Myself of Truth? More like To Rid Myself of Tooth.3

Rating: 1.5/5.0
DR: 3 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Century Media Records
Websites: signsoftheswarm.bandcamp.com | signsoftheswarm.com | facebook.com/signsoftheswarm
Releases Worldwide: August 22nd, 2025

#15 #156Silence #2025 #AmericanMetal #Aug25 #CenturyMediaRecords #Deathcore #Djent #LornaShore #Prison #Review #Reviews #SignsOfTheSwarm #ToRidMyselfOfTruth #Whitechapel

Signs of the Swarm – To Rid Myself of Truth Review

By Dear Hollow

I think deathcore’s lack of respect in metal circles is due to its subservience to trends. Riding waves of what’s considered too brutal or not, the recent MySpace-style revival and the inevitable shadow of Will Ramos-fronted Lorna Shore have collided to emphasize relentless brutality and utter sonic depravity. Signs of the Swarm has been a victim of this more than most, riding the coattails of the trends rather than setting them, and while offering some of the most intense deathcore offerings within the realm of the “low and slow” template, there’s been nothing to convince naysayers to give their albums a listen. Will To Rid Myself of Truth be the tipping point?

In many ways, To Rid Myself of Truth is the part 2 of predecessor Amongst the Low & the Empty, but the Pittsburgh quartet has never quite hammered down what their trademark approach to deathcore is. From the slammy gurgles of CJ McCreery’s troubled tenure in Senseless Order and The Disfigurement of Existence, to the husky roars of David Simonich in his contributions to discography highlights Vital Deprivation and Absolvere, Signs of the Swarm has latched onto Low & Empty’s template in being as brutally downtuned and chuggily cutthroat as possible. To Rid Myself of Truth continues the toe-dipping into djent and industrial for maximum heft and devastation, and while it’s better than its predecessor, it still begs the question why you should go out of your way to rid yourself of truth.

To Signs of the Swarm’s credit, To Rid Myself of Truth is a little more than the one-trick pony fucking shit up in the pit the way its predecessor was. Techier flourishes, rabid blastbeats, and rhythmic warbling offer reprieves in the muck, while better songwriting doesn’t end every track with ten-ton demonic breakdowns. Pinch harmonics add a dimension of madness to the already insane brutality (“Natural Selection,” “Iron Sacrament”) and jerky djent rhythms add a bit of variety (“Scars Upon Scars”), while a neat lil’ groove spices things up (“HELLMUSTFEARME,” “Chariot”). Once again, Simonich delivers an absolutely monstrous performance, his horrifying vocals an easy highlight amid low and empty chuggery, including some tasteful grunge-influenced cleans atop eerie industrial-influenced plucking and atmospheric tremolo picking (“Forcing to Forget”). Guest vocalists show up in tasteful areas, including the man, the myth, the Lorna-man Will Ramos (“Clouded Retinas”), Whitechapel’s Phil Bozeman (“Iron Sacrament”), 156/Silence’s Jack Murray, and Prison’s Johnny Crowder (“Fear & Judgement”), providing a bit of reprieve to Simonich’s all-consuming roar. To Rid Myself of Truth can feel like a honed version of Amongst the Low & Empty, utilizing the same tools but with tighter performances.

To Rid Myself of Truth has all the ingredients to a solid album – as Signs of the Swarm has always possessed – but the execution of excessive brutality and stuffy production makes it into a messed up deathcore duck-cake.1 While it felt like Amongst the Low & Empty had almost infinite breadth in its production and mixing, To Rid Myself of Truth is majorly compressed and condensed, perhaps lending itself to the tight galloping of Absolvere. But we can’t have our duck cake and eat it too, because the mix is absolutely suffocating trying to remedy the two approaches. As such, like you insulted Signs of the Swarm’s mother, you’ll be hit with so many concussions in sheer amount of breakdowns and venomous attacks, it’ll be hard to keep track (“HELLMUSTFEARME,” “Chariot,” “Sarkazein” all come to mind). Many of these tracks likewise follow a similar pattern, opening up with the title of the song roared, followed by bone-crushing breakdowns, too often adhering to the “To the Hellfire” formula of “yuuuuuuge” concussive chugs and Simonich sounding as animalistic and demonic as possible.

To Rid Myself of Truth is catharsis for Signs of the Swarm,2 a streamlined potpourri of no-frills deathcore that continually beats you over the head with “ze brootalz.” If this is your bread and butter, then feel free to rid yourself of truth – this album was written for you. Signs of the Swarm, as in the case with Amongst the Low & Empty, constantly impresses with its trendiness and novelty: a relentless breed of brutality with a consistently impressive vocal performance. However, once the novelty wears off, you’re left with brickwalled production and copied-and-pasted brutality. To Rid Myself of Truth? More like To Rid Myself of Tooth.3

Rating: 1.5/5.0
DR: 3 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Century Media Records
Websites: signsoftheswarm.bandcamp.com | signsoftheswarm.com | facebook.com/signsoftheswarm
Releases Worldwide: August 22nd, 2025

#15 #156Silence #2025 #AmericanMetal #Aug25 #CenturyMediaRecords #Deathcore #Djent #LornaShore #Prison #Review #Reviews #SignsOfTheSwarm #ToRidMyselfOfTruth #Whitechapel

Signs of the Swarm – To Rid Myself of Truth Review

By Dear Hollow

I think deathcore’s lack of respect in metal circles is due to its subservience to trends. Riding waves of what’s considered too brutal or not, the recent MySpace-style revival and the inevitable shadow of Will Ramos-fronted Lorna Shore have collided to emphasize relentless brutality and utter sonic depravity. Signs of the Swarm has been a victim of this more than most, riding the coattails of the trends rather than setting them, and while offering some of the most intense deathcore offerings within the realm of the “low and slow” template, there’s been nothing to convince naysayers to give their albums a listen. Will To Rid Myself of Truth be the tipping point?

In many ways, To Rid Myself of Truth is the part 2 of predecessor Amongst the Low & the Empty, but the Pittsburgh quartet has never quite hammered down what their trademark approach to deathcore is. From the slammy gurgles of CJ McCreery’s troubled tenure in Senseless Order and The Disfigurement of Existence, to the husky roars of David Simonich in his contributions to discography highlights Vital Deprivation and Absolvere, Signs of the Swarm has latched onto Low & Empty’s template in being as brutally downtuned and chuggily cutthroat as possible. To Rid Myself of Truth continues the toe-dipping into djent and industrial for maximum heft and devastation, and while it’s better than its predecessor, it still begs the question why you should go out of your way to rid yourself of truth.

To Signs of the Swarm’s credit, To Rid Myself of Truth is a little more than the one-trick pony fucking shit up in the pit the way its predecessor was. Techier flourishes, rabid blastbeats, and rhythmic warbling offer reprieves in the muck, while better songwriting doesn’t end every track with ten-ton demonic breakdowns. Pinch harmonics add a dimension of madness to the already insane brutality (“Natural Selection,” “Iron Sacrament”) and jerky djent rhythms add a bit of variety (“Scars Upon Scars”), while a neat lil’ groove spices things up (“HELLMUSTFEARME,” “Chariot”). Once again, Simonich delivers an absolutely monstrous performance, his horrifying vocals an easy highlight amid low and empty chuggery, including some tasteful grunge-influenced cleans atop eerie industrial-influenced plucking and atmospheric tremolo picking (“Forcing to Forget”). Guest vocalists show up in tasteful areas, including the man, the myth, the Lorna-man Will Ramos (“Clouded Retinas”), Whitechapel’s Phil Bozeman (“Iron Sacrament”), 156/Silence’s Jack Murray, and Prison’s Johnny Crowder (“Fear & Judgement”), providing a bit of reprieve to Simonich’s all-consuming roar. To Rid Myself of Truth can feel like a honed version of Amongst the Low & Empty, utilizing the same tools but with tighter performances.

To Rid Myself of Truth has all the ingredients to a solid album – as Signs of the Swarm has always possessed – but the execution of excessive brutality and stuffy production makes it into a messed up deathcore duck-cake.1 While it felt like Amongst the Low & Empty had almost infinite breadth in its production and mixing, To Rid Myself of Truth is majorly compressed and condensed, perhaps lending itself to the tight galloping of Absolvere. But we can’t have our duck cake and eat it too, because the mix is absolutely suffocating trying to remedy the two approaches. As such, like you insulted Signs of the Swarm’s mother, you’ll be hit with so many concussions in sheer amount of breakdowns and venomous attacks, it’ll be hard to keep track (“HELLMUSTFEARME,” “Chariot,” “Sarkazein” all come to mind). Many of these tracks likewise follow a similar pattern, opening up with the title of the song roared, followed by bone-crushing breakdowns, too often adhering to the “To the Hellfire” formula of “yuuuuuuge” concussive chugs and Simonich sounding as animalistic and demonic as possible.

To Rid Myself of Truth is catharsis for Signs of the Swarm,2 a streamlined potpourri of no-frills deathcore that continually beats you over the head with “ze brootalz.” If this is your bread and butter, then feel free to rid yourself of truth – this album was written for you. Signs of the Swarm, as in the case with Amongst the Low & Empty, constantly impresses with its trendiness and novelty: a relentless breed of brutality with a consistently impressive vocal performance. However, once the novelty wears off, you’re left with brickwalled production and copied-and-pasted brutality. To Rid Myself of Truth? More like To Rid Myself of Tooth.3

Rating: 1.5/5.0
DR: 3 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Century Media Records
Websites: signsoftheswarm.bandcamp.com | signsoftheswarm.com | facebook.com/signsoftheswarm
Releases Worldwide: August 22nd, 2025

#15 #156Silence #2025 #AmericanMetal #Aug25 #CenturyMediaRecords #Deathcore #Djent #LornaShore #Prison #Review #Reviews #SignsOfTheSwarm #ToRidMyselfOfTruth #Whitechapel

Signs of the Swarm – To Rid Myself of Truth Review

By Dear Hollow

I think deathcore’s lack of respect in metal circles is due to its subservience to trends. Riding waves of what’s considered too brutal or not, the recent MySpace-style revival and the inevitable shadow of Will Ramos-fronted Lorna Shore have collided to emphasize relentless brutality and utter sonic depravity. Signs of the Swarm has been a victim of this more than most, riding the coattails of the trends rather than setting them, and while offering some of the most intense deathcore offerings within the realm of the “low and slow” template, there’s been nothing to convince naysayers to give their albums a listen. Will To Rid Myself of Truth be the tipping point?

In many ways, To Rid Myself of Truth is the part 2 of predecessor Amongst the Low & the Empty, but the Pittsburgh quartet has never quite hammered down what their trademark approach to deathcore is. From the slammy gurgles of CJ McCreery’s troubled tenure in Senseless Order and The Disfigurement of Existence, to the husky roars of David Simonich in his contributions to discography highlights Vital Deprivation and Absolvere, Signs of the Swarm has latched onto Low & Empty’s template in being as brutally downtuned and chuggily cutthroat as possible. To Rid Myself of Truth continues the toe-dipping into djent and industrial for maximum heft and devastation, and while it’s better than its predecessor, it still begs the question why you should go out of your way to rid yourself of truth.

To Signs of the Swarm’s credit, To Rid Myself of Truth is a little more than the one-trick pony fucking shit up in the pit the way its predecessor was. Techier flourishes, rabid blastbeats, and rhythmic warbling offer reprieves in the muck, while better songwriting doesn’t end every track with ten-ton demonic breakdowns. Pinch harmonics add a dimension of madness to the already insane brutality (“Natural Selection,” “Iron Sacrament”) and jerky djent rhythms add a bit of variety (“Scars Upon Scars”), while a neat lil’ groove spices things up (“HELLMUSTFEARME,” “Chariot”). Once again, Simonich delivers an absolutely monstrous performance, his horrifying vocals an easy highlight amid low and empty chuggery, including some tasteful grunge-influenced cleans atop eerie industrial-influenced plucking and atmospheric tremolo picking (“Forcing to Forget”). Guest vocalists show up in tasteful areas, including the man, the myth, the Lorna-man Will Ramos (“Clouded Retinas”), Whitechapel’s Phil Bozeman (“Iron Sacrament”), 156/Silence’s Jack Murray, and Prison’s Johnny Crowder (“Fear & Judgement”), providing a bit of reprieve to Simonich’s all-consuming roar. To Rid Myself of Truth can feel like a honed version of Amongst the Low & Empty, utilizing the same tools but with tighter performances.

To Rid Myself of Truth has all the ingredients to a solid album – as Signs of the Swarm has always possessed – but the execution of excessive brutality and stuffy production makes it into a messed up deathcore duck-cake.1 While it felt like Amongst the Low & Empty had almost infinite breadth in its production and mixing, To Rid Myself of Truth is majorly compressed and condensed, perhaps lending itself to the tight galloping of Absolvere. But we can’t have our duck cake and eat it too, because the mix is absolutely suffocating trying to remedy the two approaches. As such, like you insulted Signs of the Swarm’s mother, you’ll be hit with so many concussions in sheer amount of breakdowns and venomous attacks, it’ll be hard to keep track (“HELLMUSTFEARME,” “Chariot,” “Sarkazein” all come to mind). Many of these tracks likewise follow a similar pattern, opening up with the title of the song roared, followed by bone-crushing breakdowns, too often adhering to the “To the Hellfire” formula of “yuuuuuuge” concussive chugs and Simonich sounding as animalistic and demonic as possible.

To Rid Myself of Truth is catharsis for Signs of the Swarm,2 a streamlined potpourri of no-frills deathcore that continually beats you over the head with “ze brootalz.” If this is your bread and butter, then feel free to rid yourself of truth – this album was written for you. Signs of the Swarm, as in the case with Amongst the Low & Empty, constantly impresses with its trendiness and novelty: a relentless breed of brutality with a consistently impressive vocal performance. However, once the novelty wears off, you’re left with brickwalled production and copied-and-pasted brutality. To Rid Myself of Truth? More like To Rid Myself of Tooth.3

Rating: 1.5/5.0
DR: 3 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Century Media Records
Websites: signsoftheswarm.bandcamp.com | signsoftheswarm.com | facebook.com/signsoftheswarm
Releases Worldwide: August 22nd, 2025

#15 #156Silence #2025 #AmericanMetal #Aug25 #CenturyMediaRecords #Deathcore #Djent #LornaShore #Prison #Review #Reviews #SignsOfTheSwarm #ToRidMyselfOfTruth #Whitechapel